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The Private Memoirs of 
Madame Roland 




MADAME ROLAZyjD 



The Private Memoirs 

of ./ 

Madame Roland 

M 

Edited^ with an Introduction, 
By Edward Gilpin Johnson 




Chicago 

A. C. McClurg ^ Co. 

1900 



u 



45407 

"•Vkv ♦ -^Hf . «v.- to 

SEP 10 1900 
SECOND COPY. 

Oe<t««r«(l to 

OROEft DIVISION, 

SEP 12 1900 



Copyright 

By a. C. McClurg & Co. 

A.D. igoo 



74Gi5 



"■^ During these five months, those Memoirs of 
Iters were written, which all the world still 
reads^ — Carlyle. 



Preface 

THE translation which is reprinted in this 
volume in a revised form and after com- 
parison with the text of a standard French 
edition, was made from Bosc's original edition 
of the Memoirs, and was published at London 
in 1795, within two years after Madame Roland's 
death by the guillotine on November 8, 1793. 
The Private Memoirs of Madame Roland is a 
favorite French classic which, though widely 
quoted in historical literature as an attractive 
and authoritative work, has not for many years 
been procurable in an English version. In issu- 
ing the present edition, therefore, the publishers 
believe that they have supplied an actual want. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Introduction . . • 13 

The Private Memoirs of Madame Roland 

Part 1 35 

Part II 105 

Part III 270 

Supplementary Sketch 343 

Detached Notes . . . .• 366 

Madame Roland's Farewell 370 

Editor's Note 370 

Index 375 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Madame Roland Frontispiece 

Facing page 

The Abbaye 20 

Madame Roi-and, on the way to the guillotine . 32 

Madame Roland, from the painting by Goupil ... 50 

The Conciergerie 80 

Charlotte Corday 112 

ChAteau de Versailles 130 

Camille Desmoulins 154 

Gensonne 170 

Chateau de Meudon 184 

Rousseau 210 

ChIteau de St. Cloud 240 

Madame Roland, from the painting by Heinsius . . . 272 

Brissot 302 

Pache 316 

Roland de la Plati^re 322 

Barbaroux 340 

BuzoT 360 

Petion 374 



INTRODUCTION 

IF Plutarch did not, as M. Brunetiere some- 
what fancifully asserts, " make the French 
Revolution," his influence upon the generation 
of Frenchmen that made it was nevertheless 
such as to give point and color of truth to the 
epigram. It was so largely to the old Greek 
biographer that the typical mind of the epoch 
owed its distinctive tinge and ply that the Revo- 
lution, in so far as it reflected the intellectual 
peculiarities of the day, may in a sense be said 
to have been his work. The import of M. 
Brunetiere's observation is nowhere so clearly 
illustrated as in the history of the celebrated 
group of poHtical dreamers whose central figure 
was the author of the following Memoir. It 
was from Plutarch's pages that the Girondins 
drew that extraordinary enthusiasm for the 
republics of classic antiquity which was perhaps 
their most striking characteristic as a party; 



14 Introduction 

and Madame Roland was the soul of the 
Gironde. To view her as essentially the dis- 
ciple of Plutarch, bent through Hfe on enacting 
a Plutarchian role, and maintaining through 
life a more or less Plutarchian pose, is to 
possess the master-key to her career, and to 
understand why there was in that career always 
a certain tinge or suggestion of the theatrical, 
even where her bearing was finest. In her 
memoirs Madame Roland relates how the book 
which so deeply affected her life first fell into 
her hands/ 

"Plutarch," she adds, "seemed to be exactly the 
food that suited my mind. I shall never forget the 
Lent of 1763, at which time I was nine years of age, 
when I carried it to church instead of my prayer- 
book. From that period I may date the impressions 

1 There were then two French translations of the "Lives " 
available for popular use — Amyot's, of which a new edition 
was issued in 1783, and Dacier's. It was Dacier's Plutarch 
that Madame Roland read as a child, and which she sent for 
while in the Abbaye prison. When Charlotte Corday left 
Caen on her errand of tyrannicide, she took with her a copy 
of Amyot's version ; and it was undoubtedly the book that 
inspired the deed. Another fruitful source of the curious 
neo-classicism of the period was the Abb^ Barthelemy's 
" Travels of the Young Anacharsis in Greece " — the author- 
ship of which saved the Abbe's life during the Terror. 



Introduction 1 5 

and ideas that rendered me a republican, though I 
did not then dream that I should ever be a citizen 
of a republic." 

In thus defining Madame Roland as the 
spiritual daughter of Plutarch, it is not intended 
to figure her as the mere embodiment of a trait, 
or as the victim of a fixed idea. Influences 
other than Plutarch's, and qualities less admir- 
able than the pursuit of a high, if delusive, 
ideal, played an appreciable part in shaping 
her course and character. Rousseau left an 
early and indelible impress on her mind ; and a 
shade of truth must be conceded to the some- 
what cynical theory which depicts her as es- 
sentially the vain bourgeoise, whose republican 
raptures were at bottom the expression of her 
hatred of a society in which she found her- 
self so inadequately placed. Vanity, wounded 
self-esteem, the rankling memory of social 
slights and humiliations, were potent forces in 
the overthrow of the old rigime. The jealousy 
of the Third Estate of the artificial superiorities 
and unearned privileges of decadent feudalism 
is the central fact of the Revolution ; and 
Madame Roland was no stranger to the senti- 
ments of her class. How keenly she resented 



1 6 Introduction 

the distinctions of birth that blocked the path 
and galled the pride of the educated and pros- 
perous commoner of the eighteenth century, 
her memoirs too bitterly attest. To this alloy 
of jaundiced class feeling, joined to a certain 
native hardness and implacability of temper, 
must be ascribed what is palpably impolitic and 
ungenerous in the conduct of Madame Roland. 
A more temperate politician would have seen 
the folly of rejecting the alliance of Danton ; 
a gentler woman would have relented at the 
sorrows of Marie Antoinette. 

But whatever her blemishes may have been, 
Madame Roland is still the heroine of the 
Revolution. It is to her that the eye instinc- 
tively turns for a type and symbol of the 
earlier and finer characteristics of that move- 
ment, — its quasi-religious enthusiasm, its 
broad philanthropy, its passion for liberty and 
social justice^ its faith in the original goodness 
and ultimate high destiny of man. She was 
the genius and inspirer of the men whose elo- 
quence overthrew the throne and founded the 
Republic. Writers unfriendly to the Revolu- 
tion find food for satire in the classical affecta- 
tions of these young orators and their " Egeria," 



Introduction 17 

in their capacity for self-admiration, and their 
foible of regarding themselves and each other 
as so mxany Solons and Catos, Philopoemens 
and Phocions, providentially sent to refresh 
the tradition of ancient virtue, and to herald 
the regeneration of a world that priests had 
darkened and tyrants had enslaved. But youth- 
ful extravagances born of an honest enthusiasm 
for the great and the good may be easily con- 
doned. A suggestion of tender and poetic 
grace will always linger about the memory of 
the Girondins; and impartial history, while 
pointing out their manifest and fatal short- 
comings, will not fail to add that when the 
final test of their courage and sincerity came, 
they met their fate with a constancy worthy of 
those great spirits of antiquity whose renown 
they aspired to share. 

To appreciate the " Memoirs " of Madame 
Roland justly it is necessary to realize and 
bear in mind the circumstances under which 
they were written. The writer was a prisoner, 
and under no illusions as to her impending fate. 
Across her path lay in unmistakable outlines 
the shadow of the guillotine. Her husband and 
her friends were outlaws, tracked from hiding- 



1 8 Introduction 

place to hidingplace by foes in whose eyes 
clemency was a political crime. The trumped- . 
up charge of her own infamy was ringing in 
the ears of all Paris. Under her cell window 
hawkers of the filthy journals of the day were 
audibly crying their wares and shouting her 
name coupled with the epithets and calum- 
nies of Pkre Duchesne.^ Her day was done. 
Her stately Plutarchian republic of wisdom 
and virtue was sunk in mire and blood. How 
clearly she had come to see the futility of the 
dreams on which she had lived and fed her 
hopes so long is shown in the apostrophe in 
which she bids them a last farewell : — 

" Sublime illusions, generous sacrifices, hope, hap- 
piness, and country, adieu ! At twelve years old I 
lamented in the first expansions of my young heart 
that I was not born at Sparta or at Rome. In the 
French Revolution I thought I saw the application 

1 "... I was not only transformed into the abettor of a 
counter-revolution, but into an old and toothless hag, and was 
exhorted to weep for my sins till the time should come to ex- 
piate them on the scaffold. The hawkers, in consequence 
no doubt of their instructions, did not leave the vicinity of the 
prison for a moment, but accompanied their proclamation of 
' Pere Duchesne's Great Visit to the Wife of Roland ' with the 
most sanguinary advice to the market-people." — Madame R.'s 
"Historical Notes." 



Introduction 19 

of the principles in which my mind was steeped. 
Splendid chimeras ! enchanting reveries, by which I 
have been beguiled ! The horror and corruption of 
one great city dispels you all." 

Thus, broken and disillusionized, Madame 
Roland took up her pen to recount the story of 
her life. To refute the current slanders of her 
political enemies was naturally her first con- 
cern. Gradually, as she became absorbed in 
her task and lost in the contemplation of her 
tranquil and studious youth, the old idealizing 
mood came back and resumed its sway. 
Madame Roland became, as it were, her own 
Plutarch. Conscious of her worth and recti- 
tude, eager to secure in history the esteem that 
her own times had denied her, the portrait she 
paints is one in which her own charms are too 
unreservedly portrayed, and the account of her 
own virtues is too strictly rendered. Madame 
Roland's detractors, making no allowance for 
the stress of her tragic situation, have dealt 
none too generously with this flaw in her 
" Memoirs. " Partisan critics, countrymen of 
Madame Roland, have not scrupled to vent 
their satiric wit upon these tear-stained pages, 
in which a high and misjudged soul, already in 



20 Introduction 

the Valley of the Shadow, claims its meed of 
recognition from posterity. But the sympa- 
thetic reader will perhaps find more pathos 
than vanity in the "self-admiration" of a 
defamed and desolate woman who, from the 
foot of the scaffold, looks back fondly upon her 
earlier and happier self as upon one she had 
known and communed with in the past. 

The writings of Madame Roland, which are 
embraced under the collective title of " An 
Appeal to Impartial Posterity," and of which 
the personal memoir given in this volume 
forms a part, were composed during the five 
months of her imprisonment in the Abbaye 
and Sainte Pelagic. She was arrested and 
taken to the Abbaye on the morning of June i, 
1793, the day before the expulsion of the 
Girondists from the Convention. Twenty- 
four days later she was set free, but was at 
once rearrested and confined in Sainte Pelagie,^ 

^ This proceeding was not a mere piece of wanton cruelty, 
as some of her biographers assume. There had been, it seems, 
a technical flaw in her first commitment ; and it was to cure 
this that she was freed and rearrested. She, says, in her " His- 
torical Notes " : " Joubert . . . confessed that my first arrest 
was illegal, and that it was necessary to set me at liberty in 
order that I might be afterwards taken into custody accord- 
ing to legal forms." 




THE ABBAYE 



Introduction 2 1 

where she remained until transferred to the 
Conciergerie, eight days before her execution 
on November 8. Of her prison life Madame 
Roland has told the story in detail in her 
"Historical Notes." Her lot was smoothed in 
various ways by the kindness of the jailers, 
who braved the anger of the Commune in 
furtively bestowing little favors upon their win- 
ning and illustrious captive. She tells us 
how, after arriving at the Abbaye, she at once 
set about arranging the interior of her cell in 
her usual thrifty way — for, be it remembered, 
"Cato's wife" was in her domestic concerns a 
most practical and housewifely woman. " Ris- 
ing at about noon," she says, "I considered 
how I should order my new lodgings : " — 

" With a white napkin I covered the rude little 
table, which I moved to the window, where it might 
serve as a desk ; for I made up my mind to take my 
meals from a corner of the mantelpiece, so that the 
table might be kept' clean and in order for writing. 
Two large hat-pins, stuck into the boards, answered 
for a wardrobe. In my pocket I had Thomson's 
" Seasons," a work which I valued on more than one 
account; and I made a list of what other books I 
wanted. First was Plutarch's " Lives of Illustrious 



2 2 Introduction 

Persons." Lavacquerie (the jailer) who had never 
seen his cell occupied by so contented an inmate, 
and who used to admire the pleasure I took in 
arranging my books and my flowers, told me that in 
future he should call it the Pavilion of Flora." 

At Sainte P^lagie Madame Roland was at 
first confined in the common corridor of the 
wing set apart for female criminals. "There," 
she says, " under the same roof, and in the 
same line of cells, I dwell in the midst of 
murderers, thieves, and harlots. By the side 
of me is one of those creatures who make a 
trade of seduction and a traffic of innocence ; 
above me is a forger of assignats, who, with a 
band of monsters to which she belonged, tore a 
person of her own sex to pieces upon the high- 
way. " From this Inferno of oaths and obscen- 
ity she was temporarily delivered through the 
compassion of the concierge, Madame Bouchaud. 
This good woman, not content with occasion- 
ally allowing Madame Roland the use of her 
own apartment, at length determined to assume 
the responsibility of removing her altogether 
from the cell in the corridor, and lodging her 
in a quiet and comfortable room on the ground 
floor. Here, cheered by her books and by the 



Introduction 23 

flowers which the faithful Bosc brought daily 
from the Jardin des Plantes, Madame Roland 
passed the serener and busier days of her cap- 
tivity. It was no longer, she says, the sinister 
visage of the turnkey that first met her eyes 
in the morning, and that was the last to look 
in upon her at night. 

" It was the kindly face of Madame Bouchaud 
which first greeted my eyes ; she it was whose loving 
attentions I perceived every moment of the day. 
There was nothing, even to the very jessamine 
carried up to my window and twining its pliant 
tendrils round the hairs, that did not testify to her 
benevolence." 

While at Sainte Pelagic Madame Roland was 
allowed the services of a female attendant, a 
prisoner confined for some minor offence, who 
relieved her of the coarser and more menial 
work. It was not without some philosophical 
scruples that the austere republican accepted 
this assistance ; and she makes thereon some 
characteristic reflections in her most Plutar- 
chian vein: 

"... Not but that I was very well able to be 
my own servant. 'Everything becomes a noble 



24 Introduction 



spirit,' was said of Favonius performing for Pompey 
in his misfortunes the ofifices which valets perform 
for their masters. This may be appUed with equal 
justice ... to the austere philosopher disdaining 
every superfluity. Quinctius ^ was roasting his tur- 
nips when he received the ambassadors of the Sam- 
nites ; and I could very well have made my bed, 
etc., at Sainte Pdlagie." 

Madame Roland was not long permitted to 
occupy the retreat assigned her by Madame 
Bouchaud. An inspector going his rounds of 
the prison was scandalized at the comparative 
comfort of her surroundings, and roughly or- 
dered her back to her cell, adding sternly to 
the concierge : " It is your business to maintain 
equality." Thus was the apostle of the new 
social order, by an ironically drastic application 
of her own principles, shorn of her " privileges," 
and forced to do homage to the goddess of 
i^galiti. 

While at the Abbaye Madame Roland wrote 
her " Historical Notes," a summary and vindi- 
cation of her public life, which she intrusted to 
Champagneux for safe keeping. Being himself 

1 Madame Roland is in error here. It was Marcus Curius 
Dentatus of whom this story is related. 



Introduction 25 

arrested, Champagneux consigned the manu- 
script to a third person, who, unwilling to be 
the custodian of the compromising papers, 
threw them into the fire, where they were 
partially consumed. Believing them wholly 
lost, the author was in despair. 

" I should have preferred," she says, " to have 
been thrown into the fire myself . . . These writings 
were the anchor to which I trusted for the justifica- 
tion of my memory." 

After her removal to Sainte Pelagie she re- 
wrote her "Historical Notes," adding thereto a 
series of " Portraits and Anecdotes," an account 
of her second arrest, and of the two ministries 
of Roland. At the same time she prepared 
her "Private Memoirs," — a detailed narrative 
of her life from infancy to the date of her mar- 
riage. Some fragmentary notes and reflections 
were added later, and the whole was intrusted 
to Bosc. But this friend, too, was presently 
proscribed by the Mountain. Forced to flee 
for his life, he first hid the precious manu- 
scripts in a hollow tree in the forest of Mont- 
morency, whence they were recovered eight 
months later, when the storm of the Terror 



2 6 Introduction 

had subsided. Bosc's first edition of the 
"Memoirs" was published in 1795; and the 
original manuscript of seven hundred small- 
sized sheets of grayish paper, compactly filled 
in with Madame Roland's neat and firm hand- 
writing, is now in the Bibliotheque Nationale. 

The "Private Memoirs" of Madame Roland 
is a familiar classic of French literature, and its 
merits need hardly be enlarged upon here. Its 
pathos, its playful humor, its trenchant satire, 
its vivid pictures of contemporary life and 
manners, will not be lost upon the reader. As 
a reflection of the most striking peculiarities 
of the French mind of the time, and as a 
description of the life of a young woman of the 
bourgeois class, the book has few rivals in its 
kind. It abounds in graceful and essentially 
feminine touches, in which the somewhat 
pompous and declamatory "Historical Notes" 
are lacking. One feels the sincerity, the unaf- 
fected eloquence of such charming passages, 
for instance, as that in which Madame Roland 
says, of her love of flowers : — 

" I always remember the singular effect produced 
on me by a bunch of violets at Christmas. When I 



Introduction 27 

received them I was in that mood which a season 
favorable to serious thought induces. My imagina- 
tion slumbered. I reflected coldly, the emotions 
were at rest. Suddenly the color of the violets and 
their delicate perfume quickened my senses. It was 
an awakening to life. ... A rosy tinge suffused the 
horizon of the day." 

The style of the narrative is usually simple 
and direct. True, Madame Roland idealizes 
at times, and it is too often the hand of Rous- 
seau that guides her pen, impelling it to dis- 
closures from which her native good sense and 
delicacy would have shrunk. While the memoir 
attests throughout the rare fortitude and self- 
control of the author, it nevertheless betrays at 
intervals how keenly she felt her situation. 
More than once the rapid flow of the recital is 
broken, as it were, by a sob, an exclamation of 
despair, as the writer drops her pen, and gives 
vent for the moment to her grief; and then, 
through the mist of time, one sees, not the 
somewhat cold and Amazonian Madame Roland 
of conventional history and panegyric, but the 
poor prisoner racked with anguish which her 
pride struggles to repress, of whom her attend- 
ant said to her fellow-captives : — 



2 8 Introduction 

"Before you she collects all her strength, but in 
her cell she remains sometimes for hours together 
leaning against her window, weeping." " Alas ! " 
wrote Madame Roland to Bosc, " I know now what 
it is, that malady the English call heart-break. I 
have no desire to delay its results." 

On November ist, Madame Roland was 
taken to the Conciergerie, a prison over whose 
portals was written the warning to abandon 
hope. Her Girondist friends had, on the day 
before, issued thence on their way to the 
scaffold; and her own doom was now clearly- 
sealed. She was at last to assume in grim 
reality the role she had so often enacted in 
fancy, in the days of her romantic youth. 
With Socrates she was to drink the hemlock; 
with Agis she was to bend the neck in virtuous 
resignation to the axe. The sense of the 
dramatic possibilities of her situation, of its 
enduring publicity, undoubtedly helped to 
steel her to its terrors; and her native courage 
was above that of most mortals. Of her bear- 
ing during the closing days at the Conciergerie 
we have an attractive picture from witnesses 
who cannot be suspected of a desire to gild the 
truth. Those to whom her political views 



Introduction 29 

were abhorrent are the ones most eloquent in 
her praise. She seems to have moved among 
her companions in a strange state of exaltation, 
as one who had already done with earthly things. 

"From the time of her arrival," writes the 
Duchesse de Grammont, " the apartment of Madame 
Roland became an asylum of peace in the bosom of 
this hell. If she descended into the court, her simple 
presence restored good order, and the abandoned 
women there, on whom no other power exerted an 
influence, were restrained by the fear of displeasing 
her. She gave alms to the most needy, and to all 
counsel, consolation, and hope." 

Says Comte Beugnot : — • 

" Something more than is generally found in the 
look of woman beamed from her eyes, which were 
large, dark, and brilliant. She often spoke to me at 
the grating, with the freedom and energy of a great 
man. . . . We used to gather round her and listen in 
a kind of admiring wonder. Her discourse was 
serious without being cold; and she expressed her- 
self with an elegance, a harmony, and a modulation, 
that made of her language a kind of music of which 
the ear never wearied." 

On the day after her arrival at the Con- 
ciergerie, Madame Roland was brought before 



30 Introduction 

the Tribunal for the first time ; two days later 
she underwent a second examination; on the 
7th of November the witnesses against her 
were questioned; and the day following was 
set for her trial. The Indictment of Fouquier- 
Tinville charged her with being "one of the 
principal agents and abettors " of the Girondist 
attempt to rouse the Departments against the 
Convention. The proof cited in that instru- 
ment consisted of a half-dozen letters indicat- 
ing that she sympathized with the movement. 
Of evidence that she had in any way actively 
aided it or shared in it there was no shred. 
That her trial was to be a mere form which 
could have but one issue she was fully aware. 
On the night preceding it Chauveau-Lagarde, 
a young lawyer who courageously offered to 
defend her, came to the prison to consult with 
her. Madame Roland listened to his sugges- 
tions with attention, but plainly without hope. 
When he rose to go she slipped a ring from 
her finger and handed it to him without speak- 
ing. The young man divined her meaning. 

" Madame," he said, deeply moved, " we shall see 
each other to-morrow after the trial ! " " To-mor- 
row," she replied, "I shall be no more. I value 



Introduction 31 

your services, but they might prove fatal to you. 
You would ruin yourself without saving me. Spare 
me the pain of putting the life of a good man in 
danger. Do not come to the court, for I shall dis- 
claim you if you do ; but accept this, the only token 
my gratitude can offer. To-morrow I shall be in 
eternity." 

On the morrow, as she left her cell to await 
the summons to the bar, it was seen that she 
had attired herself with unusual care, and with 
a certain pathetic regard to the event she felt 
was approaching. Her robe was of white, 
trimmed with snowy lace, and fastened with a 
girdle of black velvet. Her long, dark hair 
flowed loosely below her waist. As she entered 
the hall-way Comte Beugnot joined her. 

" Her face," he writes, " seemed to me more ani- 
mated than usual. Its color was exquisite, and there 
was a smile on her lips. With one hand she held up 
the train of her robe ; the other she abandoned to 
the prisoners who pressed forward to kiss it. Those 
who realized the fate that awaited her sobbed about 
her and commended her to God. ... I delivered 
my message to her in the passage. She replied in a 
few words spoken in a firm voice. She had begun a 
sentence when two officers from the interior called 
her to the bar. At this summons, so terrible for 



3 2 Introduction 

another, she stopped, pressed my hand, and said : 
'Farewell, sir, let us make peace, it is time.' Raising 
her eyes she saw that I was trying to repress my 
tears. She seemed moved, and added but two 
words ' Have courage.' " 

When Madame Roland came out from the 
Tribunal she passed the wicket with the light 
step of one elated with the joy of acquittal ; 
but to the inquiring looks of her friends she 
replied with a gesture signifying that she had 
been condemned to die. The death-cart al- 
ready awaited her in the courtyard. 

How she bore herself on her journey along 
that "via dolorosa of the Revolution," which 
led from the Conciergerie to the Place de la 
Guillotine, the world knows. No recorded 
pilgrim of the long train that fared that way in 
those heroic days showed a sublimer indiffer- 
ence to its terrors. A spectator who saw her 
as she passed the Pont Neuf wrote of her as 
standing erect and calm in the tumbrel, "her 
eyes shining, her color fresh and brilliant, 
with a smile on her lips, as she tried to cheer 
her companion, an old man overcome by the 
fear of approaching death." At the foot of the 
scaffold she asked for pen and paper " to write 



■Hh ■■■^ ' 


Ik 






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1 


1 




4 


ilP^^^H 


E 








■^-■'■^^^ 







JMADAMIE ROLANi) ON THE AVA.Y TO THE GUILLOTINE 

" O.' Liberie comrne on fa jotiee.'"' 



Introduction 33 

the strange thoughts that were rising in her. " 
When the executioner grasped her arm to assist 
her in mounting the steps, she drew back and 
begged that her companion might be allowed 
to precede her. The custom of the guillotine 
allowed her, as a woman, the privilege of dying 
first ; but she wished to spare the infirm old 
man a scene that would augment his fears. 
Sanson objected. "Come, citizen," she urged 
with a smile, "you cannot deny a lady her last 
request." Her wish was granted. 

As they were binding her to the plank her 
gaze fell upon the colossal statue of liberty 
erected in memory of that loth of August 
which she and her friends had made : " O 
liberty,'" she exclaimed, " comme on fajou^e!" 

The plank was swung back, the axe fell, and 
the spirit of Madame Roland (let us hope) 
joined its chosen kindred. 

E. G. J. 



THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS 



OF 



MADAME ROLAND 



Prison of Sainte Pelagie, 
Aug. 9, 1793- 

THE daughter of an artist, the wife of a man 
of letters (who, become a minister, re- 
mained an honest man), now a prisoner, destined 
perhaps to a violent and unexpected death, I 
have known both happiness and adversity, I 
have seen glory at hand, and I have experienced 
injustice. 

Born in an obscure station, but of respectable 
parents, I spent my youth in the lap of the fine 
arts, feasting on the charms of study, ignorant 
of all superiority but that of merit, all greatness 
but that of virtue. 

Arrived at years of maturity, I lost all hopes 
of that fortune, which might have placed me in 
a condition suitable to the education I had re- 



36 Private Memoirs 

ceived. A marriage with a man of position 
appeared to compensate this loss ; it prepared 
for me new misfortunes. 

A gentle disposition, a strong mind, a solid 
understanding, an extremely affectionate heart, 
and an exterior which announced these qualities, 
rendered me dear to those by whom I was 
known. My station has created me enemies; 
personally I have had none ; by those who have 
spoken the most ill of me I have never been seen. 

So true is it that things are rarely what they 
appear to be, that the periods of my life in which 
I have tasted most pleasure, or experienced 
most vexation, were those which appeared to 
others the very reverse : the solution is that hap- 
piness depends on the affections more than on 
events. 

I purpose to employ the leisure of my cap- 
tivity in retracing what has happened to me 
from my tenderest infancy to the present 
moment. Thus to tread over again all the steps 
of our career is to live a second time ; and what, 
in the gloom of a prison, can we do better than 
to transport elsewhere our existence by pleas- 
ing fictions or the recollection of interesting 
occurrences? 



of Madame Roland 37 

If experience is less acquired by acting than 
by reflecting on what we see and on what we 
do, mine will be greatly augmented by my 
present undertaking. 

Public affairs and my own private sentiments 
have afforded me sufficient matter for thinking 
and subjects enough for my pen, during the two 
months of my imprisonment, without obliging 
me to have recourse to distant times. Accord- 
ingly, the first five weeks were dedicated to 
Historical Notes, which formed perhaps no un- 
interesting collection. They have just been 
destroyed.^ I have felt all the bitterness of this 
loss, which I shall never repair. But I should 
despise myself, could I suffer my mind to sink 
under anything that might occur. In all the 
troubles I have experienced, the most lively 
impression of pain has been almost immediately 
accompanied with the ambition of opposing my 
strength to the evil, and of surmounting it, 
either by doing good to others, or by exalting 
my own courage. Thus misfortune may pursue, 
but cannot overwhelm me ; tyrants may perse- 

^ They were only partially destroyed. The account of her 
arrest, of the first days at the Abbaye, and of her life during 
Roland's term of office escaped the flames. 



38 Private Memoirs 

cute, but never, never shall they debase me. 
My Historical Notes are gone : I am about to 
write others of a private nature ; and, prudently 
accommodating myself to my weakness at a 
moment when my feelings are acute, I shall talk 
of myself, the better to divert those feelings. I 
shall relate the good and the bad with equal 
freedom. He who dares not speak well of him- 
self is almost always a coward who knows and 
dreads the ill that may be said of him ; and he 
who hesitates to confess his faults has neither 
the courage to vindicate nor the virtue to re- 
pair them. Thus frank with respect to myself, 
I shall observe no restraint toward others : 
father, mother, friends, husband, I shall describe 
as they are, or in the colors in which they 
appeared to me. 

While I remained in a quiet and retired station 
of life my natural sensibility so absorbed my 
other qualities, that it alone displayed itself, 
or governed them all. My first desire was to 
please and to do good. I was a little like that 
good M. de Gourville, of whom Madame de 
Sevign6 said that the love of his neighbor 
cut off half his words ; and I merited what 
Sainte-Lette said of me, that with wit to 



of Madame Roland 39 

point an epigram I never suffered one to 
escape me. 

Since the energy of my character has been 
unfolded by circumstances, by political and 
other storms, my frankness stands foremost, 
without considering too nicely the little scratches 
it may inflict incidentally. Still I deal not in 
epigrams ; they imply the taking a pleasure in 
the wounds dealt by satire, and I find no amuse- 
ment in killing flies. But I love to do justice 
by the utterance of truths ; and I refrain not 
from the most severe ones in presence of the 
parties concerned, without suffering myself to 
be alarmed, or moved, or angry, whatever may 
be their effect. 

Gatien Phlipon, my father, was by profession 
an engraver; he also cultivated painting, and 
applied himself to that in enamel, less from 
taste than expectation of profit; but the fire, 
which it is necessary to employ in enamelling, 
agreeing neither with his sight nor his constitu- 
tion, he was obliged to relinquish this branch. 
He confined himself therefore to the first, the 
profits of which were moderate. But, though 
he was industrious, though the times were 
favorable to the exercise of his art, though he 



40 Private Memoirs 

had much business, and employed a consider- 
able number of workmen, a desire to make a 
more speedy fortune led him to speculate. He 
purchased diamonds and other jewels, or took 
them in pay from the tradesmen who employed 
him, to sell them again as opportunity offered. 
I mention this circumstance, because I have 
observed that ambition is generally fatal in all 
classes of men ; for the few who are so lucky as 
to be raised by it, multitudes become its vic- 
tims. The example of my father will afford me 
more than one application of this maxim. His 
art was sufficient to procure him a comfortable 
subsistence ; he sought to become rich, and he 
ended with being ruined. 

Strong and healthy, active and vain, he loved 
his wife, and was fond of dress. Without learn- 
ing, he had that degree of taste and knowledge 
which the fine arts give superficially, in what- 
ever branch they are practised. Thus, notwith- 
standing his regard for wealth and whatever 
could procure it, he trafficked with tradesmen, 
but was intimate only with artists, painters, and 
sculptors. He led a regular life, while his ambi- 
tion was not unbridled, or had experienced no 
disappointments. He could not be said to be 



of Madame Roland 41 

a virtuous man, but he had a great deal of what 
is called honor. He would have had no objec- 
tion to the receiving for a thing more than it 
was worth, but he would have killed himself 
rather than not pay the stipulated price of what 
he had purchased. 

Marguerite Bimont, his wife, brought him, as 
a dower, little money, but a heavenly mind, and 
a most enchanting countenance. The eldest 
of six children, to whom she had been a second 
mother, she married at six-and-twenty, only to 
resign her place to her sisters. Her affectionate 
heart and captivating mind ought to have pro- 
cured her a union with a man of sensibility and 
enlightened understanding; but her parents 
proposed to her an honest man whose abilities 
insured a subsistence, and her reason accepted 
him. Instead of happiness, which she could 
scarcely expect, she felt that she might at least 
secure domestic tranquillity. The ability to 
limit our desires is a proof of wisdom : positive 
enjoyments are rarer than we imagine, but 
virtue never lacks consolation. 

I was the second of the seven children born to 
my parents, all of whom but myself died either 
at nurse or from mishaps while coming into 



42 Private Memoirs 

the world ; and my mother sometimes repeated 
with pleasure, that I was the only one with - 
whom she had experienced no disaster; for her. 
delivery had been as happy as her pregnancy : 
it seemed as if I had contributed to her health. 

An aunt of my father selected for me, in the 
neighborhood of Arpajon, where she frequently 
went in summer, a healthy and good-tempered 
nurse, much esteemed in the place, particularly 
because the brutality of her husband rendered 
her unhappy, without, however, corrupting her 
disposition or altering her conduct. Madame 
Besnard, my great-aunt, had no child ; her hus- 
band was my godfather ; they both considered 
me as their own daughter. Their attentions to 
me have never slackened ; they are still alive, 
and in the decline of their age are overwhelmed 
with sorrow, lamenting the fate of their darling 
niece, in whom they had placed their hopes 
and their pride. Venerable pair ! be com- 
forted : it is given to' few to run their career 
in that silence and tranquillity which have at- 
tended you. I am not unequal to the misfor- 
tunes that assail me, and I shall never cease to 
honor your virtues. 

The vigilance of my nurse was encouraged or 



of Madame Roland 43 

recompensed by my good relations ; her zeal 
and success procured her the friendship of my 
family. As long as she lived, she never spent 
two years w^ithout coming to Paris to see me. 
When she heard that death had deprived me 
of my mother, she immediately hastened to 
me. I still recollect her appearance : I was 
confined to my bed with affliction : her pres- 
ence recalling too forcibly to my mind my 
recent calamity, the first I had experienced, I 
fell into convulsions that terrified her. She 
withdrew ; I saw her no more ; she died soon 
after. I remember visiting her at the cottage 
in which she suckled me. I listened with emo- 
tion to the tales which her good-natured sim- 
plicity took pleasure in relating, as she pointed 
out my favorite spots, and related the tricks I 
had played her, with the humor of which she 
was still entertained. At two years of age I 
was brought home to my father's. I have 
frequently been told of the surprise I mani- 
fested at seeing the lamps lighted in the 
streets in the evening, at which I exclaimed, 
" What charming bottles ! " . . . These little 
anecdotes, and others of equal importance, 
interesting only to nurses and fond uncles and 



44 Private Memoirs 

aunts, should be here passed over in silence. 
It will not be expected of me to depict here 
a little brunette, two years old, whose dark 
hair played gracefully about a face animated 
with a glowing complexion, and which breathed 
the happiness of an age of which it had all the 
health. I know a better moment for drawing 
my portrait, and I am not so maladroit as to 
anticipate it. 

The discretion and other excellent qualities 
of my mother soon gave her an ascendency 
over my docile and affectionate disposition, 
which she never employed but for my good. 

So great was this ascendency, that, in those 
little disputes unavoidable between authoritative 
reason and resisting infancy, she found it neces- 
sary to inflict no other punishment than gravely 
calling me " Mademoiselle " and fixing on me 
an eye of reproof I still recollect the impres- 
sion made upon me by her look, usually so 
affectionate ; I hear, with a kind of trembling, 
this word Mademoiselle substituted, with solemn 
and touching dignity, for the gentle " ma filled' 
or the graceful appellation of Manon. Yes, 
Manon ; for so I was called. I sympathize with 
the lovers of romance. Certainly the name is 



of Madame Roland 45 

not noble ; it ill suits a heroine in the " grand 
style ; " nevertheless, it was mine ; and it is 
history that I am writing. The most fastidious, 
however, would have been reconciled to the 
name, had they heard it pronounced by my 
mother, and seen her to whom it was addressed. 
What expression could want grace when she 
accompanied it with her enchanting tone ? And 
when her affectionate voice so thrilled my heart, 
did it not teach me to resemble her? 

Lively, without being boisterous, and natur- 
ally studious, I required only to be employed, 
and readily seized every idea that was offered 
me. This disposition was turned to so good 
account, that I do not remember having been 
taught to read. I have heard that at four 
years old the business, so to speak, was com- 
pleted, and that, after that period, all that was 
necessary was to provide me with books. What- 
ever were put into my hands, or I could any- 
where obtain, engrossed all my attention, and 
nothing could divert me from them but a 
nosegay. The sight of a flower; pleases my 
imagination and flatters my senses to an in- 
expressible degree ; it awakens to luxury the 
sense of existence. Under the tranquil shelter 



46 Private Memoirs 

of my paternal roof, I was happy from my 
infancy with flowers and books ; in the narrow , 
confines of a prison, amidst the chains imposed 
by the most revolting tyranny, I have the same 
sentiment, and I forget the injustice of men, 
their follies, and my calamities, with books 
and flowers. 

It was too excellent an opportunity of teach- 
ing me the Old and New Testaments, and the 
small and large Catechisms, to be neglected. 
I learned everything it was thought proper to 
give me, and I should have repeated the Koran 
had I been taught to read it. I remember a 
painter of the name of Guibal, since settled at 
Stuttgart, who a few years ago wrote an essay 
in praise of Poussin which obtained the prize 
from the Academy of Rouen, and who fre- 
quently came to my father's. He was a merry 
fellow, who told me many a nonsensical tale, 
which I have not forgotten, and by which I 
was vastly amused ; nor was he less diverted in 
making me display in my turn my slender stock 
of knowledge. I think I see him now, with his 
whimsical face, sitting in an arm-chair, taking 
me between his knees, on which I rested my 
elbows, and bidding me repeat the Athanasian 



of Madame Roland 47 

Creed ; then rewarding my compliance with 
the story of Tanger, whose nose was so long 
that he was obliged, when he walked, to twist 
it round his arm. More absurd contrasts than 
this might be made. 

When seven years old, I was sent every Sun- 
day to the parish church, to attend " Catechism," 
as it was called, in order to prepare me for con- 
firmation. In the present state of things, they 
who read this passage may perhaps ask what 
that was ; so I will inform them. In the corner 
of a church, chapel, or other place of devotion, 
a few rows of chairs or benches, extending to a 
certain length, were placed opposite each other. 
An open space was left in the middle, in which 
was a seat higher than the rest. This was the 
curule chair of the young priest, whose office it 
was to instruct the children that attended. They 
were made to repeat by heart the Epistle and 
Gospel for the day, the Collect, and such por- 
tion of the Catechism as was appointed for the 
week's task. When the children were nume- 
rous the catechizing priest had a Httle clerk who 
heard them repeat, while the master reserved 
the more important questions to himself. In 
some parishes pupils of both sexes attended to- 



48 Private Memoirs 

gether, ranged only on different forms ; but in 
parishes in general they attended separately. 
The mothers of the children, always greedy of the 
bread of the word, however coarsely prepared, 
were present at these instructions, which were- 
graduated according to the ages of the pupils, or 
to their stage of preparedness for confirmation or 
for receiving the first communion. The zealous 
cures would from time to time visit their little 
flocks, who were taught to rise respectfully at 
their approach. A few questions were put to 
the more promising children to test their pro- 
ficiency. The mothers of the ones questioned 
were elated at the distinction; and the good 
fathers withdrew amid their grateful curtsies. 
M. Garat, the rector of my parish, that of Saint 
Bartholomew, a worthy man with some reputa- 
tion for learning, in spite of the fact that he was 
incapable of delivering two sentences together 
of common sense from the pulpit in which he 
was ambitious of shining — much as M. Garat, 
minister of state, is reputed a man of ability, 
though totally ignorant of his trade — M. Garat, 
I say, my rector, came one day to my " Cat- 
echism," and in order to sound the depth of my 
theological erudition, and display his own 



of Madame Roland 49 

sagacity, asked me how many orders of spirits 
there were in the celestial hierarchy. From 
the ironical tone and air of triumph with which 
he put the question, I knew that he expected to 
puzzle me ; and I answered, with a smile, that 
though many were enumerated in the preface to 
the Missal, I had read, in other books, of nine, 
and I repeated to him angels, archangels, thrones, 
dominions, etc. Never was rector so satisfied 
with the learning of his neophyte. From that 
moment also my reputation was established 
among the devout matrons. I was accordingly 
a chosen vessel, as hereafter will be seen. 

Some persons will perhaps say, that, with my 
mother's good sense, it is astonishing she should 
have sent me to these " C^atechisms ; " but there 
is a reason for everything. My mother had a 
younger brother, an ecclesiastic belonging to 
her parish, to whose care was committed the 
*' Catechism of Confirmation," to use the techni- 
cal term. The presence of his niece was an 
admirable example, calculated to induce those 
who were not of what is called the lower order 
of the people to send their children also ; a cir- 
cumstance that could not fail to be pleasing to 
the rector. I had, besides, a memory which 
4 



50 Private Memoirs 

was sure to secure me the first rank ; and every- 
thing combining to support this superiority, my 
parents gratified their vanity, while they ap- 
peared only to pursue the path of humility. It 
happened that, in the distribution of prizes, 
which took place, with no small parade, at the 
end of the year, I obtained the first, without the 
least partiality being shown me ; and the church- 
wardens and clergy thought my uncle extremely 
fortunate, who was on this account the more 
noticed, which was all that was necessary to 
prepossess every beholder in his favor. A 
handsome person, extreme benevolence, an easy 
temper, the gentlest of manners, and the utmost 
gayety, attended him to the last moment of his 
life. He died canon of Vincennes, just as the 
Revolution was about to abolish all ecclesiasti- 
cal dignities. I conceive myself to have lost in 
him the last of my relations on the maternal side, 
and I cannot recollect a single circumstance 
respecting him without emotion. My eager- 
ness to learn and my quickness of apprehension 
inspired him with the idea of teaching me Latin. 
I was delighted ; it was a feast for me to find a 
new subject of study. I had at home masters 
for writing, geography, dancing, and music ; my 




MADAME ROLAND 

FROM TH13 PAINTING BY GOOPIti 



of Madame Roland 51 

father instructed me in drawing ; but in all this 
there was nothing too much. Rising at five in 
the morning, when every one else in the house 
was asleep, I used to steal softly, in my bed- 
gown and without shoes or stockings, to a cor- 
ner of my mother's chamber, where was the 
table containing my lessons, which I copied or 
repeated with such assiduity that my improve- 
ment was astonishing. My masters became the 
more attached to me. They gave me long and 
interesting tasks, which called forth on my part 
additional attention, I had not a tutor who did 
not seem as much charmed to teach me as 
I was grateful for being taught; not one who, 
after attending me for a year or two, was 
not constrained to say that his instructions were 
■ unnecessary and that he ought no longer to be 
paid, at the same time requesting permission 
to visit my parents occasionally in order to con- 
verse with me. I shall ever honor the memory 
of the good M. Marchand, who, when I was five 
years old, taught me to write and afterwards in- 
structed me in geography, and with whom I 
studied history. He was a discreet, patient, 
clear-headed, and methodical personage, to 
whom I gave the nickname of " M. Doucet." I 



5 2 Private Memoirs 

saw him married to a worthy woman, a dependant 
of the family ofNesle. I visited him in his last 
sickness, an attack of the gout, which occasioned 
his death at the age of fifty. I was then 
eighteen. 

I have not forgotten my music master Cajon, 
a little, lively, talkative being, born at Macon, 
where, when a boy, he had belonged to the 
choir; he was afterwards, in turn, soldier, de- 
serter, Capuchin friar, clerk in a counting-house, 
and, lastly, vagrant, arriving at Paris with a 
wife and children and without a soil, in his 
pocket. Having a pleasant counter voice, 
rarely to be met with in men who have not 
undergone a certain operation, and admirably 
adapted to the teaching of young persons to 
sing, he set up as music teacher. He was intro- 
duced to my father, I know not by whom, and 
I was his first scholar. He bestowed on me 
considerable pains. He borrowed money of 
my parents, which he quickly dissipated ; never 
returned my collection of lessons by Bordier, 
which he gleaned with so much art as to com- 
pile from it an " Elements of Music " which he 
published under his own name; lived in style, 
without means ; and, after fifteen years, ended 



of Madame Roland 53 

his career by decamping from Paris, where he 
had involved himself in debt, and repairing to 
Russia, whence I have never heard of him. 

Of Mozon, the dancing master, an honest and 
frightfully ugly Savoyard, whose wen I think 
I still see embellishing his right cheek, as he 
inclined his pockfretted and flat-nosed visage 
to the left on his instrument, I might relate 
some humorous anecdotes ; so, too, of poor 
Mignard, my master for the guitar, a sort of 
Spanish Colossus, whose hands were like Esau's, 
and who in gravity, ceremoniousness, and rho- 
domontade, was inferior to none of his country- 
men. 

The bashful Watrin, whose fifty years, peri- 
wig, spectacles, and rubicund face, seemed all 
in commotion as he placed the fingers of his 
little scholar on the strings of her fiddle, and 
taught her to guide the bow, did not continue 
long with me ; but, to compensate for this, the 
reverend Father Colomb, a Barnabite, once a 
missionary, now superior of his convent at the 
age of seventy-five and my mother's confessor, 
sent to her house his violoncello, upon which 
he accompanied me while I played on my 
guitar. I recollect his astonishment when one 



54 Private Memoirs 

day, taking up his instrument, I played with 
tolerable precision a few airs which I had 
studied in private. Had there been a double 
bass in the house, I would have mounted a 
chair but I would have made something of it. 
To avoid anachronism, however, it must be 
observed, that I am here anticipating things 
and that I am arrived in my narrative at the 
period only of seven years, to which I return. 

I have advanced thus far without noticing 
the influence my father had in my education. 
It was in reality trifling, for he interfered in 
it but little ; and it may not be amiss to relate 
an occurrence that induced him to interfere 
still less, 

I was extremely obstinate ; that is to say, 
I did not readily consent to anything of which 
I saw not the reason ; and when the exercise 
of authority alone appeared to me, or I fancied 
that I perceived the dictates of caprice, I could 
not submit. My mother, penetrating and dis- 
creet, rightly judged that I must either be 
governed by reason or drawn by the cords of 
affection ; and, treating me accordingly, she 
experienced no opposition to her will. My 
father, hasty in his manner, issued his orders 



of Madame Roland 55 

imperiously, and my compliance was reluctant 
and slow, if not wholly refused. If, despot- 
like, he attempted to punish me, his gentle 
little daughter was converted into a lion. On 
the two or three occasions when he whipped 
me, I bit the thigh across which he placed me, 
and protested against his injunctions. One day, 
when I was a little indisposed, it was thought 
proper that I should take some medicine. A 
draught was brought me ; I applied it to my 
lips ; its smell made me reject it with loathing. 
My mother employed her influence to over- 
come my repugnance ; I was desirous of obey- 
ing her ; I exerted the sincerest efforts ; but 
every time the nauseous potion approached 
my nose, my senses revolted, and I rejected 
it in spite of myself. My mother's patience 
was exhausted. I wept both for her and for 
myself, and was still less capable of complying 
with her will. My father came ; he flew into 
a rage and whipped me, ascribing my resistance 
to stubbornness. From that instant all desire 
of obedience vanished, and I declared openly 
my resolution not to take the medicine. Great 
uproar, renewed threats, a second whipping. 
I was only the more indignant, and shrieked 



56 



Private Memoirs 



terribly. I lifted my eyes to heaven, and pre- 
pared to throw away the draught they were 
again presenting to me. My gestures betrayed 
me. My father, in a rage, threatened to whip 
me a third time. I feel, while I write this, the 
sudden revulsion that came over me. My tears 
all at once ceased, my sobbings were at an end. 
A sudden calm concentred my faculties into a 
single resolution. I raised myself, turned to the 
bedside, leaned my head against the wall, lifted 
up my chemise, and exposed myself to the rod 
in silence. Had my father killed me on the 
spot, he should not have drawn from me a 
single sigh. 

My mother, painfully agitated during this 
scene, had need of all her prudence not to 
increase my father's rage. Having prevailed 
on him to quit the room, she put me to bed 
without saying a word. Two hours after, she 
returned, and conjured me, with tears in her 
eyes, to occasion her no further vexation, and 
to take the medicine. I looked steadfastly in 
her face, took the glass, and swallowed it at a 
draught. In a quarter of an hour, however, it 
was vomited up again, and I was seized with a 
violent paroxysm of fever, which it was neces- 



of Madame Roland 57 

sary to cure by other means than nauseous 
drugs and whipping. I was at that time Httle 
more than six years old. 

All the circumstances of this scene are as 
vivid in my mind, all the sensations I exper- 
ienced as distinct to my imagination, as if they 
had recently occurred. I have since felt, on 
serious and trying occasions, the same inflex- 
ible firmness ; and it would at this moment 
cost me no more to ascend undauntedly the 
scaffold, than it did then to resign myself to 
brutal treatment, which might have killed, but 
could not conquer me. 

From that instant my father never laid his 
hand upon me nor even reprimanded me. He 
frequently caressed me, taught me to draw, 
made me the companion of his walks, and 
treated me with a kindness that rendered him 
more respectable in my eyes, and obtained 
him my entire submission. The seventh anni- 
versary of my birth was celebrated as the 
attainment of the age of reason, when it might 
be expected of me to follow its dictates. This 
was a politic sort of plea for observing towards 
me a more respectful treatment, that should 
give me confidence in myself without exciting 



58 



Private Memoirs 



my vanity. My days flowed gently on in 
domestic quiet and activity of mind. My 
mother was almost always at home, and re- 
ceived but little company. We went out but 
two days in the week, once to visit the relations 
of my father, and once on Sunday, to see my 
grandmother Bimont, go to church, and take a 
walk. The visit to my grandmother was always 
after vespers. She was a large and handsome 
woman, who at an early age had been attacked 
by the palsy, which affected her understanding ; 
she had gradually sunk into a state of dotage, 
spending her days in her easy chair at the win- 
dow, or the fireside, according to the season. 
An old servant, who had been forty years in 
the family, had the care of her. This servant, 
Marie, regularly upon my arrival gave me some 
dainty or other to eat. So far it was well ; but 
when this was gone, I was tired of the visit. 
I sought for books ; there was only the Psalter ; 
and, for want of better, I have twenty times read 
over the French and chanted the Latin. If I 
was gay, my grandmother would weep ; if I 
fell down, or received a bump, she would burst 
into a laugh. This did not please me. I was 
told it was a result of her malady, but I did 



of Madame Roland 59 

not find it on that account less mortifying or 
disagreeable. I could have borne with her 
laughing at me ; but her tears were always 
accompanied by cries at once shocking and 
pitiable, which filled me with a species of ter- 
ror. The old servant vented her garrulity upon 
my mother, who imposed it upon herself as a 
duty to spend two hours with my grandmother, 
complaisantly listening to Marie's babble. This 
was assuredly a painful exercise of my patience, 
but I was fain to submit ; for one day, when I 
cried for vexation and begged to go away, my 
mother, as a punishment, staid the whole even- 
ing. She did not fail, at proper times, to repre- 
sent to me her assiduity in these visits as a strict 
and affecting duty which it was honorable in me 
to participate in. I know not how she managed 
it, but my heart received the lesson with emo- 
tion. When the Abbe Bimont happened to be 
there, it afforded me an inexpressible joy. This 
dear little uncle made me dance and sing and 
play; but his visits were seldom, as he had 
charge of the children of the choir, which nec- 
essarily confined him at home. This brings to 
my mind one of his pupils, a lad of a prepos- 
sessing countenance, whom he was fond of prais- 



6o Private Memoirs 

ing, as he gave him, he said, little trouble. 
His promising talents obtained him, a few years 
after, a scholarship at some college, and he 
became an abbe. It was Noel, known at first 
by some little productions, employed later by 
the minister Le Brun in the diplomatic line, 
sent last year to London, and now in Italy. 

My studies occupied my days, which seemed 
too short to me ; for I had never finished all 
that I wished to have accomplished. Besides 
the elementary books with which I had been 
furnished, I soon exhausted our little library. 
I devoured every volume it contained ; and 
when I lacked new books, I began the old 
again. I remember two folio Lives of the Saints, 
a Bible of the same size in an old version, an 
old translation of Appian's " Civil Wars," a de- 
scription of Turkey written in a wretched style, 
all which I read many times over. I also found 
the " Comical Romance " of Scarron ; some 
collections of alleged bons-mots, on which I did 
not bestow a second perusal ; the " Memoirs " of 
the brave de Pontis, which were amusing; those 
of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, whose pride 
did not displease me; and some other anti- 
quated books, the contents, binding, blots, and 



of Madame Roland 6 i 

moth-eaten state of which I still remember. 
The passion ,for learning possessed me to such 
a degree, that, having fallen upon a treatise on 
the art of heraldry, I set myself instantly to 
study it. It had colored plates, with which I 
was diverted, and I was desirous of knowing the 
names of all the little figures they contained. I 
soon astonished my father with a display of 
science, by making some remarks on a seal 
that was not engraved agreeably to the rules 
of the art. On this subject I became his 
oracle, and I never misled him. A short trea- 
tise on contracts fell into my hands. This also 
I endeavored to learn, for I read nothing which 
I was not ambitious of retaining ; but it soon 
tired me, so that I did not reach the fourth 
chapter. 

To the Bible I was much attached, and I 
continually resorted to it. In our old transla- 
tions things are expressed with blunt plainness 
and without the smallest circumlocution, as in 
books of anatomy. I was struck with certain 
simple expressions, which have never escaped 
my memory. Hence I derived information not 
usually given to girls of my age; but it ex- 
hibited itself to me in no very seducing light. 



62 Private Memoirs 

I had too much exercise for my thoughts to be 
inclined to give attention to things of this mere 
material nature, and which appeared to my 
imagination endowed with so few attractions. I 
could not, however, help laughing when my 
grandmamma spoke to me of little children dug 
out of the parsley-bed ; and I told her that my 
Ave Maria informed me they came from another 
place, without troubling my head in what man- 
ner they got there. 

In rummaging the house I found a source of 
reading which I husbanded for a considerable 
time. What my father called his atelier adjoined 
the apartment in which I usually sat, which was 
a handsome room that might not improperly be 
styled a salon, but which my mother modestly 
called a parlor, neatly furnished, and orna- 
mented with looking-glasses and pictures. It 
was here I received my lessons. The recess, lit 
by a small window on one side of the fireplace, 
was converted into a closet, in which was placed 
a bed (so closely shut in that I was obliged to 
get into it at the foot), a chair, a small table, and 
a few shelves. This was my sanctum. On the 
opposite side of the salon was the atelier, a 
large room littered with engravings, carvings, 



of Madame Roland 63 

etc., into which I stole of an evening, or at 
those hours when no person was there. I had 
remarked a secret corner where one of the 
young men hid some books. I took away one 
at a time with the utmost caution, and hastened 
to my den to devour it, taking care to replace 
it at a proper time, without mentioning it to 
any person. They were in general a good sort 
of books. One day I perceived that my mother 
had made the same discovery. I saw a volume 
in her hands which had previously passed 
through mine. I then no longer felt myself 
under restraint; and, without telling a false- 
hood, observing silence on what had passed, 
I assumed the appearance of having followed 
her example. This young man whose name 
was Courson, to which he afterwards prefixed 
the de when he winded himself into place at 
Versailles as teacher to the pages, did not at all 
resemble his comrades : he was not destitute 
of politeness, had an air of good breeding, and 
sought instruction. He said nothing of the 
occasional disappearance of his books, so that 
it seemed as if there had been a tacit compact 
between the parties. In this way I read many 
volumes of travels, of which I was passionately 



64 



Private Memoirs 



fond ; among others, those of Regnard, which 
were the first; some plays of second-rate 
authors, and Dacier's Plutarch. This last work 
was more to my taste than anything I had yet 
seen, not excepting even pathetic stories, by 
which I was however much interested, as that 
of the unfortunate couple, by Labedoyere, 
which I have now by me, though I have never 
since read it. But Plutarch seemed to be 
exactly the food that suited my mind. I 
shall never forget the Lent of 1763, at which 
time I was nine years of age, when I carried 
it to church instead of my prayer-book. From 
that period I may date the impressions and 
ideas that rendered me a republican, though I 
did not dream at the time that I should ever 
become a citizen of a republic. 

" Telemachus," and " Jerusalem Delivered " 
interfered a little with the current of these ma- 
jestic thoughts. The tender Fenelon moved my 
heart, and Tasso fired my imagination. Some- 
times I read aloud at the request of my mother, 
an occupation of which I was by no means 
fond, as it suited not that thoughtfulness which 
formed my delight, and which led me to pro- 
ceed with less rapidity. But I would have 



of Madame Roland 65 

plucked out my tongue rather than have read 
in this manner the episodes of the island of 
Calypso, and a number of passages in Tasso. 
My respiration quickened, a sudden glow over- 
spread my countenance, and my altered voice 
would have betrayed my agitation. With Tele- 
machus I was Eucharis, and Herminia with 
Tancred. Completely transformed into these 
personages, I had no consciousness of any 
other existence. I forgot myself, I was re- 
gardless of everything around me. I was the 
very characters themselves, and I saw only the 
objects which existed for them. It was a trance 
that absorbed all my faculties. Meanwhile, I 
recollect having seen with considerable emo- 
tion a young painter of the name of Taboral, 
who came occasionally to our house. He was 
about twenty years of age, had a soft voice, 
languishing features, and blushed hke a girl. 
When I heard him in the work-shop, I had 
always a crayon or something to fetch ; but 
as the sight of him was as embarrassing as 
agreeable to me, I returned more speedily than 
I entered, and ran to conceal my beating heart 
and trembling limbs in my closet. I can 
readily believe at present, that, with such a 
S 



66 Private Memoirs 

disposition, assisted by leisure or a certain 
species of company, both the imagination and 
the conduct might undergo a very speedy re- 
volution. The works of which I have been 
speaking gave place to others, and their im- 
pressions were softened. Some of the writings 
of Voltaire in particular were instrumental in 
producing this effect. One day as I was amus- 
ing myself with " Candide," my mother having 
left the room for a moment, the lady with 
whom she was playing piquet asked me to 
show her the book I was reading. On my 
mother's return she expressed her astonish- 
ment at finding such a work in my hands ; 
my mother, without replying, contented herself 
with bidding me carry it back to the place from 
which I had taken it. I regarded with an un- 
favorable eye this woman, fat and unwieldy, 
assuming a consequential grimace on what she 
had done ; and I have never since honored 
Madame Charbonne with a smile. My good 
mother,- however, made no alteration in her 
conduct, but permitted me to read whatever 
books I could procure, without seeming to 
attend to them, though she knew very well 
what they were. Meanwhile no immoral pub- 



of Madame Roland 67 

lication fell in my way; even to this day I 
know only the titles of two or three ; and the 
taste I have acquired has never exposed me 
to the smallest temptation of procuring them. 
As I preferred books to everything else, my 
father sometimes made me presents of this 
kind ; but, piquing himself as he did on 
seconding my propensity to serious studies, 
his choice was whimsical enough. For instance, 
he gave me Fenelon on female education, and 
Locke on that of children, thus putting into 
the hands of the pupil what were designed for 
the tutor. I am persuaded, however, that this 
mistake was not unproductive of benefit, and 
that chance served me better than perhaps de- 
sign might have done. I was arrived at con- 
siderable maturity ; I loved to reflect ; I thought 
with seriousness of forming my character, that 
is, I studied the movements of my mind ; I 
sought to know myself; I felt that I had a 
destination which I must enable myself to fill. 
Religious notions began to ferment in my brain, 
and soon produced a violent explosion. But 
before I describe them, it may be proper to 
know what became of my Latin. 

The rudiments of grammar were well arranged 



68 Private Memoirs 

in my head. I declined nouns and conjugated 
verbs, though it appeared to me tiresome 
enough ; but the hope of reading one day in 
that language the admirable productions of 
which I had heard, and of which my books 
gave me some idea, supported my courage 
through the dryness and difficulty of the task. 
It was not thus with my little uncle, for so I 
called the Abbe Bimont. Young, good-hum- 
ored, indolent, and gay, bestowing no pains on 
any one, and as little inclined to take any 
for himself, he was completely tired of playing 
the pedagogue with the children of the choir; 
and, respecting myself, he liked better to take a 
stroll with me than to give me a lesson, or to 
make me laugh and play than to hear me repeat 
my rudiments. He was little punctual either as 
to the hour or the day of coming to our house, 
and a thousand circumstances combined to 
defer his lessons ; but I was desirous of learn- 
ing, and loath to relinquish what I had once 
undertaken. It was accordingly resolved that I 
should go to him three mornings in the week, 
but he was seldom at leisure to dedicate even a 
few moments to me ; I found him either busied 
in parish affairs, occupied with the children, or 



of Madame Roland 69 

breakfasting with a friend. I lost my time, the 
winter arrived, and my Latin was abandoned. 
From this attempt I have preserved only a sort 
of glimmering or instinct of knowledge, that, on 
devotional occasions, enabled me to repeat or 
chant the psalms without being absolutely igno- 
rant of what I was saying, and which gave me 
considerable facility for the study of languages 
in general, particularly the ItaHan, which I 
learnt a few years after, without a master and 
without difficulty. 

My father took but little pains to perfect me 
in drawing ; he rather amused himself with my 
aptitude than endeavored to cultivate in me 
extraordinary talents. A few words dropped 
by my mother in the course of conversation 
gave me to understand that, from prudential 
motives, she was not desirous of my making 
any great proficiency in the art. " I would not 
have her become a painter," said she ; " it may 
lead her, from the nature of the study, to con- 
nections which we may not approve." I had 
also begun engraving. Nothing came amiss to 
me. I learned to handle the graver, and soon 
surmounted the first difficulties. On the birth- 
days of my good old relations, which were 



70 Private Memoirs 

always religiously celebrated, I carried for my 
present either a head which I had drawn with 
unusual care for the occasion, or a neat copper- 
plate engraving, consisting of a nosegay and 
some complimentary verses, written with care, 
and in which my " M. Doucet " had assisted me 
in turning the rhymes. In return I received 
almanacs, which greatly amused me, and pre- 
sents of such little trinkets as were adapted to 
my use, and which were commonly ornaments 
of dress, of which I was fond. My mother en- 
couraged this taste in me^/ln her own dress she 
was plain, and frequemly even negligent ; but 
her daughter was her doll, whom she delighted 
to decorate ; and from my infancy I was dressed 
with a degree of elegance, and even richness, 
apparently superior to my station. The dresses 
that were in fashion for young ladies in those 
days were made like the court robes, fitting 
close at the waist, which it displayed to advan- 
tage, full below, with a long train sweeping the 
ground and adorned with different trimmings, 
according to the taste of the wearer. Mine 
were of fine silk, of some simple pattern and 
modest color, but in price and quality equal to 
the best gala suits of my mother. My toilet 



of Madame Roland 7 i 

was a grievous business to me, for my hair was 
frequently frizzed, papered, tortured with hot 
irons, and all the ridiculous and barbarous im- 
plements at that time in use. My head was so 
extremely tender, and the pulling that was 
necessary so painful, that, upon occasions of 
full dress, it always forced tears from me, 
though I uttered no complaint. 

Methinks I hear it asked, For whose eyes, in 
the retired life I led, was all this finery? They 
who ask the question ought to recollect that 
I went out two days in the week; and if they 
were acquainted with the manners of what was 
at that time called the " bourgeois " of Paris, 
they would know that in this class there were 
thousands of women whose outlay on dress 
had no other object than an exhibition of a 
few hours on Sunday in the Tuileries and at 
church, and the pleasure of parading slowly 
along the street in which they lived in the 
view of their neighbors. Add to this, the fam- 
ily visits on the grand occasions of birthdays, 
New- Year's days, weddings and christenings, 
and there will be found sufficient opportuni- 
ties for the gratification of vanity. More than 
one contrast, however, may be observed in 



7 2 Private Memoirs 

my education. This little lady, exhibited on 
Sundays at church and in the public walks in 
a dress which you would have supposed to 
have alighted from a carriage, and whose de- 
meanor and language were perfectly consonant 
with her appearance, would go to market with 
her mother on a week-day in a coarse stuff 
frock, or alone to the next greengrocer's to 
buy a little parsley or salad which the servant 
had forgotten. It must be confessed this was 
not very pleasing to me; but I showed no 
signs of dislike, and I acquitted myself of my 
commission so as to find in it amusement. I 
behaved with such civility, and at the same 
time with such dignity, that the mistress of 
the shop took pleasure in serving me first; 
yet those who came before me were not of- 
fended. I always found means to exchange 
some compliment, and grew only the more 
ceremonious and obliging. This little girl, who 
read serious works, could explain the circles 
of the celestial sphere, handle the crayon and 
the graver, and at the age of eight was the 
best dancer of a number of young persons 
older than herself assembled at some family 
feast, was frequently called to the kitchen to 



of Madame Roland 73 

make an omelet, pick herbs, or skim the pot. 
This mixture of serious studies, agreeable re- 
laxations, and domestic cares, tempered by my 
mother's prudence, fitted me for all situations, 
and seemed to indicate a premonition of vicissi- 
tudes in my fortunes and to prepare me to 
endure them. In no occupation am I at a 
loss ; I can prepare my own dinner as handily 
as Philopoemen cut his wood ; but no one who 
saw me thus engaged would think it a suitable 
employment for me. 

It may be supposed from what I have already 
related that my mother did not neglect what 
is termed religion. She was pious, without 
being a devotee ; she was, or endeavored to 
be, a believer, and she conformed to the rules 
of the church with the humility and regularity 
of one whose heart, having need of the sup- 
port of its main principles, troubles itself but 
little with its details. The reverential air with 
which the first notions of religion had been 
presented to me, had disposed me to consider 
them with attention. They were of a nature to 
make considerable impression on a lively imagi- 
nation; and notwithstanding the embarrass- 
ments in which I was involved by my dawning 



74- Private Memoirs 

powers of reason, which regarded with surprise 
the transformation of the devil into a serpent, 
and thought it cruel in God to have permitted 
it, I at last believed and adored. I received 
confirmation with the thoughtfulness of a mind 
that considers the importance of its actions, 
and meditates on its duties. The preparing 
me for my first communion was talked of, and 
I felt myself penetrated with a pious awe. I 
read books of devotion ; it was proper to direct 
my attention to the grand theme of eternal 
happiness or misery, and all my thoughts were 
insensibly turned to those points. Religious 
ideas soon gained a complete ascendency over 
my heart. The reign of sentiment, hastened 
thereby in my already forward constitution, 
commenced with the love of God, the sublime 
ecstasy of which graced and purified the years 
of my youth, and resigned me afterwards to 
the dominion of philosophy, and thus seems 
to have preserved me from the tempest of the 
passions, from which, endowed as I am with 
the vigor of an athlete, I with difficulty pre- 
served my riper age. 

This devotional turn worked an astonishing 
alteration in me. I became profoundly humble 



of Madame Roland 75 

and inexpressibly timid. I looked upon men 
with a sort of terror, which increased when any 
of them appeared to me attractive. I watched 
over my thoughts with extreme scrupulosity; 
the least profane image that offered itself to my 
mind, however confusedly, seemed to me a 
crime; I contracted such a habit of reserve, 
that, perusing, at sixteen, when I was no longer 
a devotee, Buffon's " Natural History " I skipped 
the article on Man, and passed over the ac- 
companying plates with the speed and terror 
of a person beholding a precipice. In short, 
I did not marry till I was twenty-five ; and 
with a heart such as may easily be imagined, 
with senses highly inflammable, and with con- 
siderable information as to several points, I had 
so well avoided all knowledge as to some others 
that I was surprised, as well as disillusionized, 
by the consequences of marriage. 

My life, every day more retired, soon ap- 
peared to me still too worldly to think of ven- 
turing on my first communion. This important 
ceremony, which was to have such influence on 
my eternal salvation, occupied all my thoughts. 
I acquired a taste for the holy offices ; their 
solemnity struck me. I read with avidity the 



76 



Private Memoirs 



explanation of the ceremonies of the church; 
my mind was full of their mystic signification. 
Every day I turned over my folios of the Lives 
of the Saints, and I sighed for those days when 
the persecuting fury of paganism obtained for 
courageous Christians the crown of martyrdom. 
I thought seriously of embracing a new kind of 
life, and, after profound meditations, I formed 
my project. Hitherto the bare idea of separa- 
tion from my mother had been insupportable ; 
and whenever, amusing herself with the sudden 
clouds with which sensibility overcast my ex- 
pressive brow, she jested of convents and the 
necessity of young women residing in them for 
a while, torrents of tears would flow from my 
eyes. But what ought we not to sacrifice to the 
Lord? I had formed those grand or romantic 
ideas of the solitude and silence of the cloister 
which an active imagination would naturally 
engender. The more solemn its abode, the 
more it was adapted to the disposition of my 
inspired mind. One evening, after supper, be- 
ing alone with my parents, I threw myself at 
their feet ; tears choked my utterance ; aston- 
ished, alarmed, they asked the meaning of my 
strange emotion. " I implore your consent," 



of Madame Roland 77 

said I, sobbing, " to a proposal that rends my 
heart while I make it, but which my con- 
science demands of me. Place me in a con- 
vent." They raised me from the ground. My 
mother was moved ; she would have shuddered 
at the idea of what might be the cause, but 
that, having lately been constantly about my 
person, she had nothing to dread. They in- 
quired into the motives of this determination, 
observing, at the same time, that they had 
never refused me anything that was reasonable. 
I answered that it arose from a wish to prepare 
myself with due solemnity for my first com- 
munion. My father commended my zeal, and 
expressed his readiness to comply with my 
wishes. They deliberated on the choice of a 
house. My family had no relatives in any 
religious institution, but they recollected hear- 
ing my music-master speak of a convent in 
which he attended some young ladies of rank, 
and they resolved to make inquiries concerning 
it. They found it to be a respectable house, 
and of an order not very strict. The nuns had 
in consequence the reputation of not practising 
those extravagances and mummeries for which 
they are generally distinguished ; besides, their 



78 Private Memoirs 

special occupation was the education of youth. 
They kept a day school for children of the 
lower class, whom they taught gratis, in con- 
formity" with their vows, in a hall set apart for 
the purpose ; separate from this they had a 
boarding-school for such young women as were 
confided to their care. 

My mother took the necessary steps, and after 
accompanying me to my aged relations, whom 
she informed of my resolution, which was highly 
commended by them, she conducted me to the 
sisterhood of the Congregation, rue Neuve 
Saint Etienne, faubourg Saint Marcel, near the 
very prison in which I am now confined. As I 
pressed my dear mother in my arms, separating 
from her for the first time in my life, my heart 
felt as if it would burst; but I obeyed the voice 
of God, and passed the threshold of the cloister, 
offering Him with tears the greatest sacrifice I 
could make. This was the seventh of May, 1765, 
when I was eleven years and two months old. 

In the gloom of a prison, in the midst of those 
civil commotions which ravage my country and 
sweep away all that is dear to me, how shall I 
recall to my mind, how describe that period of 
rapture and tranquillity? What pencil can 



of Madame Roland 79 

depict the ecstatic emotions of a young heart 
endued with tenderness and sensibility, greedy 
of happiness, in which the feehngs of nature 
began to awaken, and that perceived no other 
object but the Deity? The first night that I 
spent at the convent was a night of agitation. 
I was no longer under my parental roof; I was 
at a distance from that kind mother who was 
doubtless thinking of me with affectionate emo- 
tion. A dim light pervaded the chamber in 
which, with four children of my own age, I was 
to sleep. I rose softly from my bed, and went 
to the window: it opened upon the garden, 
which the moon enabled me to distinguish. The 
deepest silence prevailed ; I listened to it, if I 
may so speak, with reverence. The lofty trees 
cast their gigantic shadows from space to space, 
and promised a secure asylum to calm medi- 
tation. I lifted my eyes to the heavens ; they 
were serene and unclouded. I imagined that I 
felt the presence of the Deity smiling on my 
sacrifice, and already offering me its reward in 
the consolatory peace of a celestial abode. 
Tears of delight flowed gently down my cheeks. 
I repeated my vows with holy transport, and 
withdrew to taste the slumber of the elect. 



8o Private Memoirs 

As it was evening when I arrived, I had as 
yet not seen all the boarders. They were thirty- 
four in number, ranging from the age of six to 
that of seventeen or eighteen, united in one 
clasS; but divided between two tables at meals, 
and as it were into two sections in the course 
of the day, to perform their exercises. From 
the gravity of my appearance, it was judged 
proper, notwithstanding my youth, to place me 
among the oldest. I accordingly became the 
twelfth at their table, and was the youngest 
among them. The tone of politeness which 
my mother had taught me, the sedate air of 
which I had contracted a habit, my courteous 
and correct mode of speaking, in no way re- 
sembled the noisy and thoughtless mirth of my 
volatile companions. The children addressed 
themselves to me with a sort of confidence, be- 
cause my nature would never suffer me to re- 
pulse them; the older girls treated me with a 
sort of respect, because my reserve, without 
rendering me less obliging to them, caused me 
to be distinguished by the sisters. Brought up 
as I had hitherto been, it was not surprising that 
I should be found better informed than most of 
my class, despite their superiority in years. The 



of Madame Roland 8 i 

nuns perceived that they might derive honor 
from my education, from the simple circum- 
stance of my being under their care, without its 
being necessary for them to take any pains to 
continue it. I knew already, or very easily 
learnt, all they were capable of teaching me. I 
became the favorite of the whole sisterhood ; 
they contended who should caress and compli- 
ment me the most. The one whose office it 
was to teach the boarders to write was seventy 
years of age, and had become a nun at fifty in 
consequence of some misfortune. She had been 
well educated, and to this advantage was added 
that of good breeding and a knowledge of the 
world. She prided herself on her skill in in- 
struction. She wrote a fine hand, embroidered 
with elegance, was versed in orthography, and 
not unacquainted with history. Her diminutive 
figure, her age, and a mixture of pedantry 
occasioned, however, this mother Sainte Sophie 
to be treated by her giddy little pupils with 
less respect than she merited. The jealousy of 
the sisters also, if I remember right, contributed 
to this effect ; envious of talents which they did 
not possess, they were fond of holding her up 
to ridicule. This worthy nun, attracted by my 
6 



8 2 Private Memoirs 

studious disposition, soon became attached to 
me. After giving a lesson to the class, she 
would take me aside, make me repeat my gram- 
mar, go over my maps, and question me upon 
history. She even obtained permission to take 
me to her cell, where she employed me in read- 
ing to her. 

Of my former tutors I retained only one, my 
music-master, of whom I received lessons in 
the parlor, with two of my companions, under 
the inspection of a nun ; and to continue my 
drawing I had a female tutor who was admitted 
for the purpose into the convent. 

The regularity of a life occupied with a 
variety of pursuits, was perfectly suited to the 
activity of my mind, as well as to my natural 
taste for method and application. I was one 
of the first at everything ; and still I had leisure 
because I was diligent, and lost not a moment 
of my time. In the hours of recreation I did 
not run and frolic with the crowd, but sat down 
alone under some tree to read or to meditate. 
How sensible was I to the beauty of the foliage, 
the breath of the zephyrs, and the perfume of 
the surrounding flowers ! Everywhere I beheld 
the hand of the Deity; I saw His beneficent 



of Madame Roland 83 

cares ; I admired His works. Moved with grati- 
tude, I went to adore Him in the chapel, where 
the solemn tones of the organ, blended with the 
fresh voices of the young nuns chanting their 
anthems, completed my happiness. Independ- 
ently of mass, to which all the boarders were 
regularly conducted in the morning, there was 
half-an-hour in the afternoon of ordinary days 
consecrated to meditation, to which those only 
were admitted who appeared capable of the 
seriousness requisite to the enjoyment of devo- 
tional reading. I had no need to solicit this 
favor, which they were eager to confer upon 
me as a recompense for my zeal ; but I re- 
quested with fervor the privilege of receiving 
my first communion at the approaching solem- 
nity, the Feast of the Assumption. Though 
this festival fell shortly after my entrance into 
the convent, the request was granted with the 
unanimous consent of the superiors and the 
Director. This Director, who was a man of 
good sense, was a monk of the monastery of 
St. Victor, where he officiated as cur^. He had 
accepted, in addition, the office of confessor to 
the Congregation, an office for which his age 
(which was past fifty), his equable temper, his 



84 Private Memoirs 

austerity of morals and bearing, well fitted him. 
When I was confided to his care, M. Garat, the 
priest of my parish, took the trouble to come 
himself to the convent to deposit his tender 
lamb in the hands of this holy shepherd. 
They met in the parlor, where, from my being 
present, they conversed in Latin, a tongue of 
which I understood but little, though I com- 
prehended a few words in my praise. These 
never escape the penetration of a female, how- 
ever young she may be, or in whatever language 
they are uttered. I gained considerably by the 
change. Garat was a mere pedant, in whom I 
should have beheld the sternness of a spiritual 
judge; the monk of St. Victor was an upright 
and enlightened man, who directed my pious 
affections to all that is great and sublime in 
morality, and who took a pleasure in developing 
the germs of virtue through the instrumentality 
of religion, without any absurd mixture of its 
mysticism. I loved him as a father, and during 
the three years that he lived after my quitting 
the convent, I went regularly to St. Victor's, 
which was at a considerable distance, on the 
eve of each of the grand festivals, to confess 
myself to him. 



of Madame Roland 85 

It cannot be denied that the CathoHc rehgion, 
though httle suited to a sound judgment and 
an enlightened mind which is accustomed to 
subject the objects of its faith to the rules of 
reason, is well calculated to captivate the imagi- 
nation, which it strikes by means of the gran- 
diose and awful, while at the same time it 
captivates the senses by mystic ceremonies, 
alternately soothing and melancholy. Eternity, 
always present to the mind of its sectaries, 
calls them to contemplation. It renders them 
scrupulous appreciators of good and evil, while 
its daily practices and imposing rites contribute 
to relieve and support the attention,, and offer 
the easy means of advancing towards the end 
proposed. Women are wonderful adepts in 
heightening these practices, or accompanying 
these rites with whatever can add to their 
charms and splendor; and nuns in particular 
excel in this art. A novice took the veil soon 
after my arrival at the convent. The church 
and the altar were decorated with flowers, with 
brilliant lustres, curtains of silk, and other 
superb embellishments. The gathering was 
numerous, and filled the space exterior to the 
altar with the gay and festive air of a wedding. 



86 Private Memoirs 

The young victim appeared at the grate tri- 
umphant, and adorned with the utmost pomp, 
of which, however, she soon divested herself, 
to appear again covered with a white veil, and 
crowned with roses. I still feel the agitation 
which her slightly tremulous voice occasioned 
me, when she melodiously chanted the cus- 
tomary verse, Elegit, etc. : Here have I chosen 
my abode, and will establish it forever. I have 
not forgotten the notes of this little anthem ; 
I can repeat them as accurately as if I had 
heard them but yesterday. Would I could 
chant them in America ! Great God, with 
what accents would I utter them ! — When the 
novice had pronounced her vows, she was 
covered, as she lay prostrate on the ground, 
with a pall, under which one might have sup- 
posed her to be buried. I shuddered with 
terror. To me it represented the image of an 
absolute dissolution of every earthly tie, and 
the renunciation of all that was dear to her. 
I was no longer myself; I was the very victim 
of the sacrifice. I thought they were tearing 
me from my mother, and I shed torrents of 
tears. Endowed with this faculty of sensibility, 
which renders impressions so profound, and 



of Madame Roland 87 

occasions so many things to afifect us vividly, 
that pass away like shadows before the eyes 
of the vulgar, our existence never grows listless. 
Accordingly I have reflected on mine from an 
early period, without having once found it a 
burden, even in the midst of its severest trials ; 
and, though not yet forty, I may be said to have 
lived a prodigious age, if life be measured by 
the sentiment which has marked every instant 
of its duration. 

I should have too many scenes of a similar 
nature to recount, were I to go over all which 
the emotions of a tender piety have engraven 
on my heart. The charm and habit of these 
sensations became so powerful as never to have 
been erased from it. Philosophy has dissipated 
the illusions of a chimerical faith ; but it has 
not annihilated the effect of certain objects on 
my senses, or their association with the ideas 
and dispositions which they were accustomed 
to excite. I can still attend divine service with 
pleasure, if it be performed with solemnity. 
I forget the quackery of priests, their ridiculous 
fables and absurd mysteries, and see only weak 
mortals united together to implore the succor 
of the Supreme Being. The miseries of man- 



88 Private Memoirs 

kind and the consolatory hope of an omnipo- 
tent Repairer of the world's injustice occupy 
my thoughts. Every extraneous idea is ex- 
cluded ; the passions subside into tranquillity, 
and a sense of my duties is quickened. If 
music form a part of the ceremony, I find my- 
self transported to another world, and I come 
away with a chastened heart from a place to 
which the ignorant and unreflecting crowd 
resort to adore a morsel of bread. It is with 
religion as with many other human institutions : 
it does not change the disposition of an individ- 
ual, but assimilates itself to his nature, and is 
exalted or enfeebled accordingly. The herd 
of mankind think but little, believe on the hear- 
say of another, and act from instinct; so that 
there prevails a perpetual contradiction between 
the principles they admit, and the conduct 
they pursue. Strong minds proceed differently ; 
they require consistency, and their actions are 
the index of their faith. In my infancy, I 
necessarily embraced the creed that was offered 
me : it was mine till my reason was sufficiently 
enlightened to examine it, and all my actions 
were strictly conformable thereto. I was as- 
tonished at the levity of those who, professing 



of Madame Roland 89 

a similar faith, acted in contradiction to it — 
in like manner as I now feel indignation against 
the cowardice of men who, desirous of having 
a country, set a value on life when it is to be 
risked in its service. 

While I would avoid repetitions upon the same 
subject, I cannot help remarking a striking cir- 
cumstance which took place upon my first com- 
munion. Prepared by all the means customary 
in convents, by retirement, long prayers, silence, 
and meditation, it was considered by me as a 
solemn engagement, and the pledge of eternal 
felicity. This idea completely absorbed me. 
It inflamed my imagination, and softened my 
heart to such a degree that, bathed in tears, 
and enraptured with divine love, I was incapable 
of walking to the altar without the assistance of 
a nun, who supported me by the arm and 
aided me to advance to the holy table. These 
appearances, which I in no respect sought to 
display, obtained me considerable credit, and 
all the good old women I met in my way re- 
commended themselves to an interest in my 
prayers. 

Methinks I hear the reader ask, as he finishes 
this paragraph, if this heart so tender, this 



90 Private Memoirs 

extreme sensibility, was not at length exer- 
cised on more real objects; and whether, hav- 
ing contemplated bliss at so early an age, I did 
not realize it in a passion, of which some indi- 
vidual shared with me the fruits? 

To which I answer, let us not anticipate. 
Dwell with me a while on those peaceful days 
of holy delusion to which I still love to revert. 
Think you that, in an age so corrupted, in a 
social order so unjustly constituted, it is possible 
to taste the delights of nature and innocence? 
Vulgar souls find gross pleasures ; others, whom 
these pleasures are insufficient to interest, ex- 
cited by the illusions of passions, and coerced 
by severe and absurd injunctions, which they 
honor while they discharge, know scarcely any 
other delight than that of the dear-bought glory 
of fulfilling them. Let us confine our attention 
for the present to the mild and pure friend- 
ship which now offered me its charms, and to 
which I have been indebted for so many happy 
moments. 

Some months had elapsed since my arrival at 
the convent. I spent my time there in the 
occupations I have already described. Once a 
week I was visited by my parents, who took me 



of Madame Roland 91 

with them on Sundays, after service, to walk in 
the Jardin du Roi, which is now the Jardin dcs 
Plantes. I never quitted them without shed- 
ding tears, which were caused by my love for 
them, and not by regret at my situation ; for I 
reentered with joy those tranquil cloisters, 
which I used slowly to traverse, the better to 
enjoy and drink in their solitude. Sometimes I 
would halt beside a tomb on which was in- 
scribed the eulogy of some pious maiden. 
" She is happy ! " I would exclaim with a 
sigh. Then a pleasing melancholy would per- 
vade my soul which made me seek in the bosom 
of the Deity, and in the hope of being one 
day received into it, that felicity for which I 
longed. 

The arrival of some new boarders caused a 
ripple of excitement in our little circle. Two 
young ladies from Amiens had been announced. 
The curiosity of the girls of a convent is more 
lively upon such occasions than one would 
imagine. It was on a summer's evening, and 
we were walking under the trees. " There they 
are ! there they are ! " was the sudden exclama- 
tion. The first mistress committed the strang- 
ers to the care of the nun whose business it was 



92 Private Memoirs 

to superintend the boarders. The crowd gath- 
ered round them, separated, returned again, and 
at length walked in groups in the same alley 
to examine them. They were two sisters of 
the name of Cannet. The elder was about 
eighteen, of a fine shape, easy and careless de- 
portment, with a mixture at the same time of 
sensibility and pride that implied a dislike of 
her situation. The younger was scarcely more 
than fourteen ; a veil of white gauze covered 
her mild countenance, and ill concealed the 
tears that bedewed it. I felt interested in her; 
I stopped to examine her more closely, and 
then mingled with the talkers to discover what 
they knew of her. 

She was the favorite, it seemed, of her 
mother, whom she tenderly loved, and from 
whom it was so painful to her to be separated 
that her sister had been made to accompany 
her the better to reconcile her to the idea. 
Both were seated at supper at the same table 
with myself. Sophie, the younger, ate but 
sparingly. Her mute grief, so far from being 
repellent, could not fail to attract all who ob- 
served her. Her sister appeared less occupied 
in consoling her than in chafing over her own 



of Madame Roland 93 

hardships — and not altogether without rea- 
son. A girl of eighteen, banished from the 
gay world into which she had just entered, 
and condemned to the seclusion of a convent 
as the companion of her sister, she might well 
consider herself sacrificed by her mother, who 
had, indeed, been partly influenced by the hope 
of thus repressing a somewhat too vivacious 
temperament. It was not necessary to be long 
in the company of the lively Henriette to dis- 
cover this. Frank even to brusqueness, im- 
patient to irascibihty, gay even to folly, she 
had the spirit of her age without any of its 
reason. Volatile, flighty, sometimes charming 
and often insupportable, her fits of temper 
were succeeded by the most affectionate atone- 
ments. She united extreme sensibility with 
the utmost extravagance of imagination. You 
could not avoid loving, even while you scolded 
her, yet it was difficult to live with her upon 
terms of endearment. Poor Sophie had much 
to suffer from the temper of her sister, who 
was irritated against her from feelings of jeal- 
ousy, and yet was too just not to esteem her 
as she deserved, and consequently found in her 
connection with her everything that could con- 



94 Private Memoirs 

tribute to that inconstancy which she herself 
was the first to lament. 

The sobriety of premature reason character- 
ized Sophie. She did not feel acutely, because 
her head was cool and composed ; but she loved 
to reason and reflect. She was sedate, without 
being prepossessing, and accordingly lacked the 
qualities that win the affections; but she was 
obliging to every one, as opportunity offered ; 
and if she did not anticipate, she at least never 
refused compliance with the wishes of others. 
She was fond both of working and reading. 
Her sorrows had touched me. I was pleased 
with the manner in which she occupied her time ; 
I felt that I had found in her a companion, and 
we became inseparable. I attached myself to 
her with that unreserve which flows from an 
impulse to love at first sight and entirely the 
object that appears to accord with us. Work- 
ing, reading, walking, all my occupations and 
amusements were shared with Sophie. She 
was devout, with as much sincerity as myself, 
though a little less tenderness, which contrib- 
uted to the intimacy of our union. It was, 
so to express myself, under the wing of Provi- 
dence and in the transports of a common zeal, 



of Madame Roland 95 

that our friendship was cultivated : we wished 
mutually to encourage and assist each other 
in the path to perfection. Sophie was a tire- 
less reasoner : she wanted to analyze, to discuss, 
to know everything. I talked much less than 
herself, and scarcely laid stress on anything 
but results. She took pleasure in conversing 
with me, for I was an adept at listening; and 
when I differed from her in opinion, my oppo- 
sition was so gentle, for fear of offending her, 
that, in all the variety of our discussions, not 
the slightest quarrel has ever taken place be- 
tv/een us. Her society was extremely dear to 
me, for I had need of intrusting to a person 
who could understand me the sentiments I felt, 
which seemed to be strengthened by being 
shared in. About three years older than my- 
self, and a little less reserved, she had a sort 
of external advantage which I did not envy her. 
She prattled prettily and fluently ; I knew only 
how to answer. It is true, people delighted 
to question me, but this was not a task that 
was easy to everybody. To my dear friend 
alone was I truly communicative ; others had 
only, as it were, a glimpse of me, those ex- 
cepted who were sufficiently skilful to lift up 



96 



Private Memoirs 



the veil, which, without intending to hide my- 
self, I naturally assumed. 

Henrietta was sometimes, but not often, of 
our party. She had formed a more congenial 
connection with a Mademoiselle de Cornillon, 
eighteen years of age, as ugly as sin, abounding 
in wit and mahce, a proper hobgoblin to 
frighten children, but whose tricks would have 
been lost upon our maturer reason. 

I cannot pass over in silence the tender affec- 
tion that was shown me from my first arrival 
by an excellent girl, whose unfaltering attach- 
ment has afforded me consolation on more 
occasions than one. Angelique Boufflers, born 
to no inheritance, had taken the veil at the age 
of seventeen. She was still ignorant of her own 
character. Nature had formed her of the most 
inflammable materials ; her suppressed energies 
exalted to the highest possible degree the sen- 
sibility of her heart and the vivacity of her 
mind. The want of fortune had caused her 
to be placed among the lay sisters, with whom 
she had nothing in common but the servility 
of their functions. There are minds which 
have no need of cultivation. Sainte Agathe 
(the convent name of this nun), without the aid 



of Madame Roland 97 

of education, was superior not only to her 
companions, but to most of the sisters of the 
choir. Her worth was known; and though, 
as is usual in these societies, where the majority 
are always ungrateful, they abused her good- 
nature by loading her with all sorts of drudgery, 
she enjoyed the respect which is due to merit. 
It was her office, at the time of which I am 
speaking, to Avait upon the boarders. She had 
no assistant in this work, and had besides 
other cares confided to her ; yet she dis- 
charged them all with equal diligence and 
cheerfulness. I had scarcely observed her, 
when she had already distinguished me by 
her attentions. Her kindness was the first 
circumstance that led me to notice her. At 
table she studied my taste, and sought to 
gratify it ; in my chamber, she seemed to take 
a pleasure in making my bed, and never let 
an opportunity escape of saying something civil 
to me. If I met her, she embraced me with 
tenderness. Sometimes she would lead me to 
her cell, where she had a charming little bird, 
tame and caressing, and which she had taught 
to speak. She gave me even a secret key to 
this cell, that I might have access to it in her 
7 



98 Private Memoirs 

absence. I read there all the books of which 
her little library was composed : the poems of 
Father du Cerceau, and some mystical works. 
When her avocations prevented her from spend- 
ing any time with me, I was sure to find in her 
cell an affectionate little note, which I never 
failed to answer; she treasured up these mis- 
sives like so many jewels, and showed them to 
me long afterwards carefully stored away in 
her desk. Presently the attachment of Sainte 
Agathe to the little Phlipon was the talk of the 
convent ; but it was accepted quite as a matter 
of course, none of my companions taking offence 
at the favor accorded me. If any of the sisters 
spoke to her of her evident partiality, she would 
ask quite innocently if they would not do the 
same were they in her place ; and when some au- 
stere devotee of fourscore, like Sister Gertrude, 
chided her for loving me too much, she would 
say that she, Sister Gertrude, thought so because 
she was herself incapable of such affection ; " and 
yet even you," she would add, " never meet her 
without stopping her." Mother Gertrude would 
then turn away muttering between her teeth, yet 
half an hour after, she never failed, if she saw 
me, to give me a cake or some sweetmeats. 



:^'r 



of Madame Roland 99 

When the young Cannets arrived, and I at- 
tached myself to Sophie, Agathe appeared a 
Httle jealous, and it was a pleasure to the nuns 
to tease her upon the subject; but her generous 
affection did not diminish. She was at length 
satisfied that my friendship should be divided, 
and seemed to share the pleasure I felt from an 
intimacy with a person nearer my age, whose 
society I could enjoy every hour of the day. 
Agathe was then four-and-twenty. Her charac- 
ter and affection have inspired me with the sin- 
cerest regard for her, which I have frequently 
taken a pride in testifying. 

During the last years of the existence of con- 
vents, it was she alone whom I went to visit in 
the convent of the Congregation, Having been 
obliged to quit it at a time when her age and 
infirmities rendered such an asylum necessary 
to her, and being reduced to the scanty pension 
assigned her, she vegetates at present at no great 
distance from the place of our ancient abode, or 
from the prison in which I am now confined ; 
and in this situation, in the midst of the shame 
of her undeserved poverty, her only subject of 
lamentation is the captivity of her " daughter," 
for thus has she always called me. Ye com- 



loo Private Memoirs 

passionate souls, who feel for my situation, 
cease sometimes to pity me, in contemplating 
the blessings which heaven has preserved to 
me. In the midst of their power, my persecu- 
tors have not the felicity of being loved by an 
Agathe, to whom misfortune only renders the 
objects of her attachment the more dear. 

The winter had passed away. During this 
season, I had seen my mother less frequently; 
but my father never suffered a Sunday to pass 
without visiting me and taking me to walk in 
the Jardin du Roi, if the weather would at all 
permit, where we braved the severity of the 
cold, tripping it gayly over the snow. Delight- 
ful walks ! the remembrance of which was re- 
vived twenty years after upon reading these 
lines of Thomson,^ which I never repeat with- 
out emotion: 

Pleas'd was I, in my cheerful morn of life, 

When nurs'd by careless solitude I liv'd, 

And sung of nature with unceasing joy; 

Pleas'd was I, wand'ring through your rough domain, 

Through the pure virgin snows, myself as pure. 

1 Thomson's " Seasons " was the book slipped by Madame 
Roland into her pocket on the night of her imprisonment. 
This old favorite, with Plutarch, Tacitus, and Hume's 
" History of England," formed the little library of her cell. 



of Madame Roland loi 

It had been determined, upon my entrance 
into the convent, that I should remain there 
only a year. This I had desired myself, as I 
wished to see a limit to the sacrifice I had made 
in separating myself from my mother. The 
nuns also, on their part, when they consented 
to my receiving my first communion in the 
fourth month of my residence with them, had 
taken care to stipulate that I should not leave 
them the sooner on that account, and that I 
should complete the. period agreed upon. 
This period having revolved, I was now to 
come out. My mother announced to me, that 
my grandmother Phlipon, who was extremely 
fond of me, had requested to have my company 
for a while. To this she had consented, conceiv- 
ing that it would not be displeasing to me, as 
she would be able to see me there much more 
frequently than at the convent. This arrange- 
ment, besides, was perfectly suitable to circum- 
stances. My father had been chosen to some 
office of his parish. On this account he was 
frequently from home, and then my mother 
was obliged to superintend the work intrusted 
to the young men, with which she had hitherto 
had no concern ; so that she would have less 



I02 Private Memoirs 

leisure to bestow upon me. The arrangement 
she proposed to me was a gentle transition from 
the absence I had lately experienced to a com- 
plete return to her, and I accepted it the more 
readily as I was attached to my grandmother. 
She was a graceful, good-humored little woman, 
whose agreeable manners, polished language, 
gracious smile, and coquettish glances, still 
hinted at some pretensions to please, or at least 
reminded us that she had been an object of ad- 
miration. She was sixty-five or sixty-six years 
of age, and not indiff"erent to dress, which she 
took care, however, should be suitable to her 
years ; for she prided herself above all things on 
the study and observance of decorum. Being 
plump, light of foot, erect, with handsome little 
hands the fingers of which were gracefully dis- 
played, and a tone of sentiment shaded with 
delicate gayety, the traces of age were almost 
imperceptible. She was a delightful companion 
to young persons, whose society pleased her, 
and by whom she was proud of being sought. 
Becoming a widow immediately upon the term- 
ination of the first year of her marriage, my 
father, born after the death of her husband, was 
her only child. Misfortunes in trade having 



of Madame Roland 103 

reduced her to distress, she had recourse to 
some rich relations, who employed her in the 
education of their children. Thus she had 
the care, in the house of Madame de Boismorel, 
of the son Roberge, of whom I shall speak in 
the sequel, as well as of her daughter, after- 
wards Madame de Favieres. 

A little estate, which fell to her by inheri- 
tance, having rendered her independent, she 
retired to the island of St. Louis, where she 
occupied a decent apartment with her sister, 
Mademoiselle Rotisset, whom she called by the 
name of Angelique. This worthy maiden, asth- 
matic and devout, pure as an angel and simple 
as a child, was the very humble servant of her 
elder sister. The afiairs of the little household 
devolved entirely upon her. A charwoman 
attending twice a day to perform the more 
menial offices, Angelique was competent to the 
rest, and attended respectfully at the toilet of 
her sister. She naturally became my gouver- 
nante, while Madame Phlipon was my tutor. 
Behold me, then, in their hands, after having 
quitted the house of the Lord, regretted, es- 
teemed, and embraced by the whole sisterhood 
of nuns, wept over by my Agathe and my 



I04 Private Memoirs 

Sophie, lamenting in turn my separation from 
them, and promising to mitigate its pains by the 
frequency of my visits. 

This engagement was too dear to my heart 
not to be scrupulously fulfilled. My walks were 
frequently directed towards the Congregation. 
My aunt Angelique, as well as my father, took 
pleasure in accompanying me thither. The news 
of my arrival in the parlor being spread through 
the convent, I had presently a group of tAventy 
about me. But these visits, after all, were poor 
substitutes for the daily and confidential inter- 
course of friendship. They became less fre- 
quent, and I had recourse to correspondence, 
carried on principally with Sophie. This was 
the origin of my taste for writing, and one of 
the causes which have rendered, from habit, 
the practice of it so easy to me. 



of Madame Roland 105 



II 

August 28. 

I FEEL my resolution to pursue these 
Memoirs deserting me. The miseries of 
my country torment me ; the loss of my friends 
unnerves me ; an involuntary gloom penetrates 
my soul and chills my imagination. France is 
become a vast Golgotha of carnage, an arena of 
horrors, where her children tear and destroy each 
other. 

The enemy, favored by civil strife, advances 
in every quarter; the cities of the North fall 
into their power; Flanders and Alsace must 
become their prey; the Spaniard desolates 
Roussillon ; Savoy rejects an alliance that would 
unite her to anarchy, and returns to her ancient 
tyrant, whose troops invade our frontiers ; the 
rebels of la Vendee continue to lay waste a large 
extent of territory; the Lyonnese, wantonly 
provoked, . have burst into open resistance ; 
Marseilles flies to their succor; the disorder 



io6 Private Memoirs 

spreads to the neighboring Departments ; and in 
this universal agitation, and in the midst of these 
multiplied disorders, there is nothing consistent 
but the measures of the foreign powers, whose 
conspiracy against freedom and mankind our 
excesses have justified. Our government is a 
species of monster, whose form is as odious as 
its appetites are depraved ; it destroys whatever 
it touches, and devours even itself This last 
feature is the only consolation of its numerous 
victims. 

The armies, ill conducted, and worse pro- 
vided, alternately fly like cowards, and fight 
with the courage of despair. The ablest com- 
manders are accused of treason, because certain 
Representatives, ignorant of war, blame what 
they do not comprehend, and brand as aristo- 
crats all who are more enlightened than them- 
selves. A legislative body, characterized by 
debility from the moment of its existence, pre- 
sented us at first with lively debates, as long as 
it possessed sufficient penetration to foresee the 
national dangers, and courage to announce 
them. The just and generous spirits, who 
aspired to the welfare of their country and 
dared attempt to establish it, denounced au- 



of Madame Roland 107 

daciously under the most odious colors and in 
forms the most contradictory, have been at, last 
sacrificed by ignorance and fear to intrigue and 
peculation. Chased from a body of which they 
were formed to be the soul, they left behind 
them an inane and corrupt minority, who have 
united the oppression of despotism with the 
license of anarchy, and whose follies and crimes 
dig their own tomb, while they are consummat- 
ing the public ruin. The nation, cowardly and 
uninstructed, because egotism is indolent and 
indolence credulous and blind, has accepted a 
constitution essentially vicious, which, even if 
unexceptionable, it should still have rejected with 
indignation, because nothing can be accepted 
from villainy without degradation to the re- 
ceiver. This deluded people boasts of security 
and freedom, while it has seen both violated with 
impunity in the persons of its Representatives ! ^ 
It can only change its tyrants. Already under a 
yoke of iron, every change seems to it an 
alleviation ; but, incapable itself of accomplish- 
ing one, it supinely awaits it at the hands of the 
first master ambitious of ruling it. O Brutus, 

1 In the expulsion of the Girondists from the Convention, 
June 2, 1793. 



io8 Private Memoirs 

whose daring hand freed in vain the degenerate 
Romans, hke thee we have erred. Like thee, 
men pure and enhghtened, whose ardent souls 
burned for Hberty, and whom philosophy had 
trained for it in the calm of study and the 
austerity of seclusion, have flattered themselves 
that the fall of the despot would herald the 
reign of justice. Alas, it has been but the sig- 
nal for the rule of the direst passions, and 
the most execrable vices ! Thou saidst, after 
the proscriptions of the triumvirs, that the cause 
of the death of Cicero had filled thee with 
more shame than his death had occasioned thee 
grief; thou blamedst thy friends at Rome for 
having become slaves rather by their own fault 
than that of their tyrants, and accusedst them 
of the dastardliness of seeing and permitting 
things, of which the mere recital should have 
been insupportable to them and excited their 
horror. 

Such is the indignation which I feel in my 
dungeon. But the hour of indignation is past; 
it is too evident that there is no good to 
be hoped nor additional evil to be feared. 
Never can history paint these dreadful times, or 
the monsters that fill them with their barbari- 



J^:.,... 



of Madame Roland 109 

ties. They surpass the cruelties of Marius, the 
atrocities of Sylla. The latter, inclosing and 
slaughtering six thousand men who had sur- 
rendered to him, near the senate, which he 
exhorted to proceed in its deliberations amidst 
the shrieks and groans of the victims, acted like 
a tyrant that abuses the power he has usurped. 
But to what can we compare the domination of 
those hypocrites, who, masking their ambition 
and avarice with the guise of justice, and con- 
verting the laws into snares for the innocent, 
have created a public tribunal as the engine of 
their personal vengeance, and send to the 
scaffold, with formalities mockingly judicial, 
every individual whose virtues offend them, 
whose talents excite their jealousy, or whose 
opulence tempts their cupidity. What Rome 
or Babylon ever equalled Paris, polluted with 
debauchery and blood, and governed by magis- 
trates who profess to trade in falsehood and 
calumny, and to license assassination? What 
people has ever depraved its nature to the point 
of contracting a moral necessity of beholding 
executions, and of glutting its eyes with scenes 
of cruelty; of foaming with impatience and 
rage when the sanguinary scenes are retarded ; 



iio Private Memoirs 

and of being ever ready to wreak its ferocity 
on whosoever shall attempt to calm and pacify 
its violence ? The days of September were the 
sole work of a small number of human tigers 
drunk with wine and blood; those of the 31st 
of May and the 2d of June ^ marked the triumph 
of crime by the apathy of the Parisians, and 
their tame acquiescence in slavery. From this 
date crime and anarchy grow apace ; the fac- 
tion, called in the Convention the Mountain 
is but a band of robbers, aping in garb and 
language the dregs of the populace, preaching 
massacre, and setting the example of rapine. 
Crowds of people surround the courts of justice, 
and vociferate their threats against the judges, 
who are thought too tardy in the condemnation 
of innocence. The prisons are gorged with 
public functionaries, with generals, and private 
individuals of characters that graced and en- 
nobled humanity. A zeal to accuse is received 
as a proof of civism, and the search and deten- 
tion of persons of merit and property sum up 
the duties of an ignorant and unprincipled mag- 
istracy. 

' The days of the Montagnard movement for " purging " 
the Convention of their Girondist opponents. 



of Madame Roland 1 1 1 

The victims of Orleans are fallen, Charlotte 
Corday has not produced the smallest move- 
ment in a city which did not merit that she 
should free it from a monster. Brissot,^ Gen- 
sonne, and a multitude of other deputies re- 
main under the decree of accusation ; the 
deficiency of proofs but augments the animos- 
ity against them, and the will of the people, 
who impatiently expect their heads as a wild 
beast awaits its prey, supplies the want of rea- 
sons for their condemnation. Custine^ is no 
more ; Robespierre triumphs ; Hebert points 

1 Some women assembled in the church of St. Eustatius, 
said one day, setting up a howl, that they must have the head 
of Brissot, without permitting the judges to use in his trial 
the same tedious process which had retarded the execution of 
Custine. Two thousand persons surrounded the court the 
day that judgment was pronounced on this general, trembled 
lest he should escape their hatred, and declared aloud, that 
if he were absolved, he must be treated like Montmorin, and 
with him all the traitors that lay in the prisons. 

2 His entire property was confiscated. His daughter-in- 
law, a young and charming woman, at that time pregnant, who 
divided her days between her father-in-law, dragged to the tri- 
bunal, and her husband detained unjustly, was imprisoned 
immediately after the execution of the former, and in conse- 
quence miscarries. What does that signify to these monsters ? 
The public accuser had received of her 200,000 livres to save 
innocence : he returns them, and then causes her to be arrested, 
who might denounce his infamous procedure. 



112 Private Memoirs 

out his victims ; Chabot registers them ; the 
Tribunal is assiduous in its work of death, and 
the populace prepares to accelerate and mul- 
tiply executions. Meanwhile, famine rears its 
head ; pernicious laws discourage industry, 
stop circulation, and annihilate commerce ; the 
finances fall to decay; the disorganization be- 
comes general ; and in this wreck of the pub- 
lic wealth, men devoid of shame erect their 
fortunes from the fragments of national pros- 
perity, set a price on all their actions, and traf- 
fic in the lives of their fellow-citizens. 

Dillon and Castellane obtain their release, 
the one from the prison of the Madelonettes, 
the other from that of Sainte Pelagic, by the 
payment of thirty thousand livres to Chabot. 
Sillery stands cheapening his liberty, which he 
is rich enough to purchase, and two hundred 
bottles of his excellent champagne are the over- 
plus of the bargain struck with the strumpets 
of the committee.^ The wife of Roland, pointed 

1 The money and wine were received, but Sillery obtained 
only the liberty of seeing and discoursing with whom he 
pleased. With this mitigation of his imprisonment he is 
still confined in the Luxembourg. Three or four abandoned 
women, belonging to the infamous wretches of the Committees 
of Public and General Safety, form a board of trade, with which 
every individual of any distinction must treat for his security. 



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CHARLOTTE CORD^Y 

FKOM HAUDRY'S PAIXXI^G, AFTER THE POUTKATT BY HATTER 



of Madame Roland 113 

out hy ph'e Duchesne to the fury of the popu- 
lace, awaits its last excess in the same prison 
from which the mistress of a forger of assignats 
departs unmolested, after having purchased the 
safety of herself and her accomplice. Henriot, 
having ascended to the command of the Na- 
tional Guard, through the honorable gradation of 
lackey, bailiff's clerk, and assassin at St. Firmin, 
breaks seals, empties cellars, and removes fur- 
niture with equal shamelessness and insolence. 
Charged with the care of the deputies detained 
in the Luxembourg, he presumes to intrude 
into their presence purposely to insult them, 
deprives them by force of pens, books, and 
papers, and adds menace to his outrages. The 
subordination of authorities is become a fiction, 
which it is not permitted to name without in- 
curring the accusation of incivism, and drawing 
upon one's head the imputation of counter- 
revolutionary principles. The fugitive depu- 
ties,^ alas ! have they at length escaped from 
this inhospitable land, which devours the vir- 
tuous and the sage, and drenches itself with 
their blood ? O my friends ! may propitious 
fate conduct you to the United States, the only 

^ The Girondists, among them Roland and Buzot. 
8 



114 Private Memoirs 

asylum of freedom ! My wishes would conduct 
you thither, and I ardently hope that you are 
now actually on your passage. But what re- 
mains for me? I shall see you no more, and 
while for your sakes I rejoice in your removal, 
I lament in it our eternal separation. And 
thou, my revered spouse and companion, en- 
feebled by premature old age, eluding with dif- 
ficulty the pursuit of the assassins, shall I be 
permitted to see thee again, and to pour conso- 
lation into thy soul, steeped as it must be in 
bitterness and despair? How long must I re- 
main a witness of the desolation of my native 
land, and the degradation of my countrymen? 
Oppressed by these mournful reflections, I have 
given way for a moment to my grief; a few 
tears have escaped from my weary lids, and I 
have laid aside the light pen which has been 
retracing the memories of bygone, happier 
years. 

Let me once more try to recall them and 
to follow their course. My simple story may 
one day serve to cheer the solitary hours of 
some captive as unhappy as myself, who may 
forget his own sorrows in commiserating mine 
— or perchance some poet or romancer, desir- 



of Madame Roland 115 

ing to paint the human heart, may find in my 
recital elements not unworthy of study. 

Not many days will probably elapse before 
the want of provisions, exasperating the popu- 
lace, will urge them to tumults, which the agi- 
tators will take care to foment. The tenth of 
August was near being a commemoration of 
the ides of September. The day before yes- 
terday their renewal was menaced, should Cus- 
tine be acquitted. The Cordeliers already 
proclaim the necessity of getting rid of all sus- 
pected persons, and punishments are decreed 
against such as presume to disapprove of those 
" glorious days." What is this but to prepare 
a repetition of them? The persons sent be- 
fore the Revolutionary Tribunal are not crimi- 
nals referred thither to be judged, but victims 
whom it is ordered to immolate. Those who 
are imprisoned for anything but crime are 
not under the safeguard of the law; on 
the contrary, abandoned to suspicion and cal- 
umny, they are exposed to the blind fury of 
the populace, from which they are not a mo- 
ment secure. Let us avert our eyes from 
this lamentable epoch, to which the reign of 
Tiberius alone can be compared, and let us 



II 6 Private Memoirs 

return to the blissful moments of my tranquil 
youth. 

I had completed my twelfth year, and the 
thirteenth was passed under the care of my 
grandmother. The quiet of her house, and 
the piety of my aunt Angelique, admirably 
accorded with the tender and contemplative 
disposition I had indulged in the convent. 
Every morning Angelique accompanied me to 
church to hear mass, where I soon attracted 
the attention of those apostles of abnegation 
who court the favor of God by peopling 
the cloisters. The Abbe Gery, with his wry 
neck and downcast eye, accosts the person 
whom he supposes to be my gouvernante, to 
congratulate her on the edification produced 
by the example of her pupil, and to express 
the joy he should feel in being chosen her con- 
ductor in the ways of the Lord. He learned 
with regret that the grand ceremonies had 
been already performed, and that I had chosen 
my confessor. He then begged me to tell 
him if I had no project respecting my future 
destination, no plan of withdrawing myself 
from the pomps and vanities of the world ; 
and received for answer that I was yet too 



of Madame Roland 117 

young to determine my vocation. Gery sighed, 
addressed a number of fine things to me, and 
did not fail to meet us on our return and to 
repeat his compliments. The piety of my 
young heart was not of a nature to be gratified 
with Jesuitical affectations ; it was too sincere to 
unite with the absurdities of fanaticism, and 
the wry neck of Monsieur Gery was as little to 
my taste. I had nevertheless a secret design 
of consecrating myself to the religious life. 
St. Francois de Sales, one of the most amiable 
saints in Paradise, had made a conquest of my 
heart, and the ladies of the Visitation, of which 
he was the founder, were already my sisters 
by adoption. But I judged that, being an 
only child, I should not gain the consent of 
my parents during my minority, and I was not 
willing to occasion them unnecessary pain by 
any premature disclosure of my sentiments. 
Besides, should it happen that when put to the 
proof my resolution should be shaken, it would 
be furnishing arms to the ungodly against the 
holy vocation. I resolved, therefore, to con- 
ceal my intention, and to proceed in silence to 
my object. I put to contribution the little 
library of my grandmother ; and the Philotee 



1 1 8 Private Memoirs 

of St. Frangois de Sales and the Manual of St. 
Augustine became my favorite studies. What 
doctrines of love, what delicious aliment for 
the innocence of a fervent soul abandoned to 
celestial illusions ! The controversial writings 
of Bossuet were a new food to my mind : favor- 
able as they were to the cause which they 
defended, they sometimes contained objections 
to it, and thus set me on weighing my belief 
This was my first step in the path of doubt; 
but it was infinitely remote from the scepticism 
at which in a course of years I was destined 
to arrive, after having been successively Jan- 
senist, Cartesian, Stoic, and Deist. What a 
route, to terminate at last in patriotism, which 
has conducted me to a dungeon ! In the midst 
of all this devotion, some old books of travels 
and a store of mythology served to amuse my 
imagination ; while the letters of Madame de 
Sevigne established my taste.^ Her charming 
facility, her elegance, her vivacity, her tender- 

1 They also were the models upon which Madame Roland 
formed her later and less sententious epistolary style, as her 
charming and vivacious letters to Bosc, given in his edition 
of her works, attest. The partial Bosc says in his Preface : 
" As a letter-writer she was superior in my opinion to a 
Sevigne or a Maintenon. . . ." 



of Madame Roland 119 

ness made me enter into her intimacy. I 
became acquainted with her society; I was as 
familiarized with her manners and surroundings 
as if I had Hved with her. 

My grandmother saw Httle company, and sel- 
dom went out; but her agreeable pleasantry 
animated the conversation when I occupied my- 
self at her side in the little tasks which she took 
pleasure in teaching me. Madame Besnard, my 
great-aunt, who had taken care of me while an 
infant at nurse, came every afternoon to pass an 
hour or two with her sister. Her austere char- 
acter gave her a solemnity of manners and an 
air of ceremony which Madame Phlipon would 
occasionally rally, but so tenderly as not to 
give offence, and was generally repaid by her 
sister in some plain but sound truth, a Httle 
abruptly expressed, of the bluntness of which 
her excellent heart pleaded the apology. My 
grandmother, who attached the highest value 
to the graces and to all that embellishes social 
life, was extremely sensible of the complaisance 
which my gentle temper and desire of pleas- 
ing all about me, and her own amiable man- 
ners in particular, inspired me with towards 
her. She would sometimes pay me a com- 



I20 Private Memoirs 

pliment; and when, which was generally the 
case, I replied with readiness and propriety, 
she was overcome with satisfaction, and would 
cast a triumphant look at Madame Besnard, 
who, shrugging her shoulders, would seize the 
first moment of my removal to another part of 
the room, to say in a low voice, but which I 
heard very distinctly, " You are really insup- 
portable ; she will be spoiled ; what a pity ! " 
My grandmother took no other notice of this 
than to assume a posture more upright than 
before, assuring her sister, with an air of su- 
periority, that she knew very well what she 
was about ; and the worthy Ang^lique, with her 
pale visage and prominent chin, her spectacles 
on her nose, and her knitting in her hands, 
would tell them both that there was no danger 
to be apprehended, that it was impossible for 
anything to spoil me, and that my prudence 
was so exemplary that I might almost be left 
to my own guidance. This Aunt Besnard, how- 
ever, so precise in her manners and so appre- 
hensive of the effects of flattery, gave herself 
the utmost concern at my lying on a hard bed, 
and if I felt the slightest indisposition would 
never fail to call twice a day to inform herself 



of Madame Roland 121 

of its progress. What undisguised inquietude, 
what anxious cares did she not display on these 
occasions? And how delightful was their con- 
trast with her ordinary reserve and severity ! In 
truth, it seemed as if heaven had surrounded 
me with such affectionate friends, purposely to 
render my heart of all others the most tender 
and susceptible. 

My grandmother one day took it into her 
head to pay a visit to Madame de Boismorel, 
either for the pleasure of seeing her, or of display- 
ing her little daughter. Great preparations in 
consequence ; long toilet in the morning : at 
length behold us setting off with Aunt Angelique 
for the rue Saint-Louis, au Marais, where we 
arrived about noon. On entering the house 
every one, beginning with the portiev, salutes 
Madame Phlipon with an air of respect and 
affection, emulous who shall treat her with the 
greatest civility. She repays their attention 
with courtesy, tinged at the same time with 
dignity. So far very well ; but her grand- 
daughter is perceived ; and, not satisfied with 
pointing her out to one another, they proceed 
to pay her a number of compliments. I began 
to feel embarrassed, from a sentiment I could 



122 Private Memoirs 

not well explain, that, while servants might look 
at and admire me, it was not their business to 
compliment me. We go on ; a tall lackey 
announces us, and we enter the salon, and find 
the lady seated, with her lap-dog beside her, 
upon what we called then, not an ottomane, 
but a canapi, gravely embroidering tapestry. 
Madame de Boismorel was about the age, the 
height, and the figure of my grandmother ; but 
her dress betokened the pride of wealth, rather 
than taste ; and her countenance, far from ex- 
pressing any plebeian desire to please, plainly 
demanded that all attention should be bestowed 
upon herself, and manifested her consciousness 
of deserving it. A rich lace, puckered into the 
form of a small bonnet, with broad wings pointed 
at the extremity like the ears of a hare, was 
perched upon the top of her head, that it might 
not conceal her perhaps borrowed hair, which 
was itself dressed with that afl'ected discretion 
one must assume at sixty years of age. The 
rouge, spread one layer over another, lent to eyes 
naturally dull a much greater air of fierceness 
than was sufficient to make me fix mine upon 
the ground. 

" Ah, Mademoiselle Rotisset, good morning 



of Madame Roland 123 

to you," cried, in a loud and cold tone, Madame 
de Boismorel, as she rose to meet us. (" Made- 
moiselle I " So my grandmother is mademoi- 
selle in this house.) " Upon my honor I am 
very glad to see you. And this pretty child 
is your granddaughter? She will make a fine 
woman. Come here, my dear, sit down by my 
side. She is a Httle bashful. What age is your 
daughter, Mademoiselle Rotisset? She is a little 
brown to be sure, but she has a very good skin ; 
she will grow fairer ; and then what a shape ! I 
will lay my life that hand must be a lucky one. 
Did you never venture in the lottery? " 

" Never, madame ; I am not fond of gaming." 

" So, so ! very likely indeed ! At your age 
children are apt to think their game is sure. 
What an admirable voice she has, so soft, and 
yet rich ! She is so grave too : I suppose you 
have a devotional turn ? " 

" I know my duty to God, and I endeavor to 
fulfil it." 

" That is a good girl ! You wish to take the 
veil: is it not so? " 

" I do not know my future destination, and I 
do not seek to pry into it." 

" Upon my word, very pretty, and very sen- 



124 Private Memoirs 

tentious ! Your granddaughter is a great stu- 
dent, I dare say, Mademoiselle Rotisset?" 

"She likes nothing so well as reading; she 
employs a part of every day in it." 

" Oh ! I was sure of that. But have a care she 
does not become a blue-stocking; that would be 
a thousand pities." 

The conversation next turned upon the family 
and friends of the mistress of the house. My 
grandmother asked very respectfully for the 
uncle, and the cousin, and the daughter-in-law, 
and the son-in-law, the Abbe Langlois, Coun- 
cillor Brion, M. Parent, the rector. They talked 
of the health of all these people, their pedi- 
grees, and their eccentricities — for example of 
Madame Roud6, who, notwithstanding her great 
age, was still absurd enough to pretend to a fine 
bosom, and accordingly greatly exposed this 
part of her person, except when she got in and 
out of her carriage, for which occasion she had 
always an immense handkerchief ready in her 
pocket, because, as she observed, it is not de- 
cent to make such an exhibition to the footmen. 
During this dialogue, Madame de Boismorel 
sometimes took some stitches in her work, 
sometimes patted her httle dog, but most fre- 



of Madame Roland 125 

quently looked hard at me. I took care not to 
meet her eyes, because it was unpleasant to me ; 
but I looked round upon the furniture and deco- 
rations of the apartment, which were to me a 
more pleasing spectacle than the lady : and as 
I looked, my blood coursed more rapidly, I felt 
my color rise, my heart beat, and my breath 
come short. 

I did not at this age ask m.yself, why my 
grandmother did not sit upon the canape, or for 
what reason in particular Madame de Boismorel 
always called her " Mademoiselle " Rotisset ; but 
I had the feeling that led to this reflection, and 
I saw the end of the visit with joy, as if I were 
just liberated from some hard confinement. 

" Good-by ! Do not forget to buy me a 
ticket in the lottery, and let your granddaughter 
choose the number, do you hear, Mademoiselle 
Rotisset? I am sure it will be a lucky one. One 
embrace : and you my little heart ; do not look so 
much on the ground. Your eyes are meant to 
see with ; and even one's confessor does not for- 
bid us to open them. Ah ! Mademoiselle Rotis- 
set, you will have many a fine bow made you, 
take my word for that. Good morning, ladies." 

Saying this, Madame de Boismorel rings her 



126 Private Memoirs 

bell, orders Lafleur to call in two days at Made- 
moiselle Rotisset's for a lottery ticket she is to 
send her, chides her dog for barking, and seats 
herself quietly upon her canape before we are 
out of the room. 

From Madame de Boismorel's we walked 
home in silence, and I hastened to my books, 
eager to forget what was past, and no better 
pleased with the compliments of the lady than 
of her servants. My grandmother, neither 
vexed nor pleased, talked sometimes of her and 
her singularities ; of the rooted selfishness 
which had made her reply that " children were 
but secondary considerations," when my grand- 
mother once took the liberty to remind her of 
the interest of hers, for the purpose of checking 
her prodigal expense ; and of that familiarity in 
her manners, common enough with ladies of the 
great world, that made her receive her confessor 
and others at her toilet, and change her chemise 
and do other little offices in their presence. 
This style of behavior struck me as strange ; I 
was glad to make my grandmother talk about 
it, but I kept to myself my own thoughts on the 
matter, thinking it would not perhaps be be- 
coming in me to divulge them. 



of Madame Roland 127 

A fortnight later Madame de Boismorel's 
son, whom we had not seen at her house, called 
upon us. He was a man of about thirty-seven, 
of a pleasing countenance and polished address. 
His glance was swift and penetrating, his eye 
very open and somewhat too large, and his deep 
and manly, yet well modulated voice, betok- 
ened sincerity of soul and a politeness that was 
not merely external. He addressed my grand- 
mother with deference, and me with that air of 
marked courtesy which sensible men preserve 
toward young people of my sex. The conver- 
sation was easy, yet sufficiently circumspect. 
M. de Boismorel did not neglect to allude grace- 
fully to his obligations to my grandmother's 
care and kindness, while delicately hinting at 
the same time that Providence had rewarded 
her for the pains she had bestowed upon the 
children of others by the satisfaction she might 
expect to enjoy in so promising a child of her 
own family. 

I found M. de Boismorel infinitely more ami- 
able than his mother, and I was delighted when- 
ever he called upon us, which was generally 
every two or three months. He had married at 
an early age a charming woman, by whom he 



128 Private Memoirs 

had an only son, whose education occupied a 
considerable portion of his thoughts. He had 
undertaken it himself, and was desirous of direct- 
ing it on philosophical lines, in which he was 
not a little thwarted by the prejudices of his 
mother, and the enthusiastic, devotion of his 
wife. He was accused of singularity; and as 
his nerves had been affected in consequence 
of some inflammatory disorder, the old count- 
esses, the learned judges, and the sagacious 
abbes of his family, or of his mother's acquaint- 
ance, ascribed to a derangement of the brain 
the conduct he pursued in the education of his 
son. These circumstances being made known 
to me interested me in his character. I found 
that this man argued with extreme pertinency, 
and I began to suspect that there were two 
sorts of reason, so to express myself, one for the 
closet, and another for the world, — a morality 
of principle and a morality of practice, from 
the contradiction of which resulted so many 
absurdities, of which some were too glaring 
to escape my attention ; in short, that persons 
of the gay world called everybody insane who 
was not affected Hke themselves with the com- 
mon insanity: and thus did materials for 



of Madame Roland 129 

reflection insensibly accumulate in my active 
brain. 

My grandmother sometimes contrasted the 
sentiments and behavior of M. de Boismorel 
with those of his sister, Madame de Favieres, 
with whom she _ was little pleased, and whom 
her brother had found it necessary to remind 
that Mademoiselle de Rotisset was their own 
relation — a circumstance, said I to myself, that 
the mother did not seem less willing to overlook 
or forget. To my great satisfaction, my grand- 
mother never expressed a wish to present me to 
Madame de Favieres ; indeed she was so well 
aware of my thoughts upon the subject that we 
did not even pay a second visit to Madame de 
Boismorel. 

My father had vacated his office ; the year to 
be spent with my grandmother had elapsed ; 
I returned to the arms of my mother. But it 
was not without regret that I left this pleasant 
retreat in the Isle of Saint Louis, those agree- 
able quays where I was accustomed to take the 
air with my Aunt Ang61ique in the serene sum- 
mer evenings, contemplating the windings of 
the stream and the distant landscape. I was 
especially fond of the quays which, in my zeal 
9 



130 Private Memoirs 

to seek the temple and pour out my soul at the 
foot of the altar, I have traversed without meet- 
ing in the solitary path a single object to dis- 
tract my meditations. The gayety of my 
grandmother brightened the home in which I 
had spent so many cheerful and peaceful 
days. I quitted her with a flood of tears ; nor 
was my attachment to my mother, whose merit 
was of a higher description, but whose manners 
inspired greater awe, able to divert my regret. 
Till that moment I had never ventured upon 
any comparison with respect to my mother that 
tended in any way to lessen her; but I now 
felt a confused sense of that tendency. Child 
of the Seine, I had from my infancy resided on 
its banks ; but the situation had not the sohtary 
calm of my grandmother's. The moving pic- 
tures of the Pont-Neuf varied the scene every 
moment, and I entered literally as well as figura- 
tively into the world, when I returned to my 
paternal roof. A free air, however, and an 
unconfined space, offered an ample source of 
amusement to my romantic and vagrant imagi- 
nation. How many times from my window, 
which fronted the north, have I contemplated 
with ravishing emotion the vast expanse of 




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of Madame Roland 131 

heaven, its proud azure dome, stretching its can- 
opy from the cool blue east far behind the Pont- 
au-Change to the west, still warm with the 
glow of the setting sun, and tingeing the trees 
and roofs of Chaillot ! Never did I fail to 
bestow a few moments on this ravishing spec- 
tacle at the close of every fine day, and often 
have tears of joy silently flowed down my 
cheeks, while my heart, swelling with an inex- 
pressible sentiment, happy in the idea and the 
sense of existence, offered to the Supreme Being 
a tribute of gratitude, pure and worthy of His 
acceptance. I know not if sensibility of heart 
sheds a more vivid hue on every object it 
beholds, or if certain sensations, that yet ap- 
pear to contain nothing remarkable, contribute 
powerfully to develop it, or if both be not 
reciprocally cause and effect; but when I 
retrace the events of my life, I am doubtful 
whether to assign to circumstances or to my 
character that variety and plenitude of affec- 
tions which have marked it so strongly, and 
left me so clear a remembrance of all the situa- 
tions in which I have been placed. 

Cajon had continued to instruct me in music. 
He was fond of reasoning with me on the 



132 Private Memoirs 

theory, or rather the technique of his art, for, 
though he pretended to be a composer, he 
understood httle of mathematics and less of 
metaphysics ; but he was ambitious of teaching 
me all he knew. My coldness in singing was a 
source of almost as much regret, as my facility 
in pursuing a train of argument was of astonish- 
ment to him. " Put soul into it ! " he would 
continually exclaim : " you sing an air as nuns 
chant an anthem." The poor man did not per- 
ceive that I had too much soul to express it in 
a song: to give full expression to a tender 
passage of music would have embarrassed me 
as much as to have done dramatic justice to 
the sentiments of Eucharis and Erminia, while 
reading aloud to my mother of the loves and 
sorrows of those heroines. I became trans- 
formed, it is true in a way, into the heroine 
herself; but I could not mimic her; I entered 
into her feelings, my respiration was quickened, 
my voice grew tremulous, but this was all. It 
was impossible for me to express the sentiment 
with scientific tune, and a sostemito voice : I had 
no idea like that of resolving to be impassioned. 
Mignard, whose Spanish politeness gained him 
the esteem of my grandmother, had begun 



of Madame Roland 133 

at her house his lessons on the guitar, which 
he continued when I returned to my father's. 
The simple accompaniments did not cost me 
much effort. Mignard took dehght in making 
me excel on the instrument, and in the end 
I surpassed my master. This poor man quite 
lost his head, as will appear later on. Mozon 
was recalled to perfect my dancing, as was 
" M. Doucet " to improve me in arithmetic, 
geography, writing, and history. My father 
made me resume the graver, confining me to a 
small branch of the art, to which he thought 
to attach me by the tie of interest ; for having 
enabled me to be useful to him, he employed 
me upon some trifling works of which I was to 
share with him the profit at the end of the week, 
according to an account of them which he en- 
gaged me to keep. But I was soon weary of 
this ; nothing was so insipid to me, as to en- 
grave the edge of a watch-case, or to ornament 
an etui, and I was better pleased to read an 
agreeable author than to buy myself a riband. 
I did not conceal my disgust, and as no con- 
straint was laid upon me, I locked up the imple- 
ments, and have never touched them since. I 
went out every morning with my mother to 



134 Private Memoirs 

attend mass, after which we sometimes made 
our purchases; then succeeded the lessons of 
my several masters, and these being finished, 
after an interval of recreation I retired to my 
closet to read, to write, and to meditate. The 
long evenings made me return to my needle- 
work, during which my mother had the com- 
plaisance to read to me for hours together. 
These readings gave me great pleasure ; but as 
they did not permit me to digest what was read 
so perfectly as I wished, the idea suggested itself 
to me of making extracts. Accordingly my first 
employment in the morning was to consign to 
paper what had struck me most forcibly the 
preceding evening; and this done, I resumed 
the book to recover the connection, or to copy 
a passage that I was desirous of having entire. 
This grew into a habit, a necessity, a passion. 
My father's small library having long since been 
exhausted, I borrowed and hired books, and I 
could not bear the idea of returning them till I 
had digested what I had conceived to be the 
best of their contents. In this manner I studied 
Pluche, Rollin, Crevier, Pere d'Orleans, St. Real, 
Abbe de Vertot, and Mezeray, who so little re- 
sembles him, and whom I conceived to be the 



of Madame Roland 135 

drycst author I had ever read ; but his subject 
was the history of my country, and with this 
I was anxious to be acquainted. 

My grandmother Bimont was dead. My 
httle uncle, of St. Bartholomew, advanced to a 
higher office than that of master of the choir, 
boarded with the first vicar, the Abbe le Jay, 
who lived very well, and we were accustomed 
to call upon him on Sundays and other festivals 
after service. 

The Abbe le Jay was what is called a good- 
natured old man, as thick in his person as in 
his wit, a poor preacher, a worse confessor, a 
casuist, and I know not what beside. But he 
knew how to manage affairs of interest, and 
had succeeded so well as to establish his two 
brothers as notaries at Paris, where they made 
a figure in their profession, which was at that 
time a reputable and lucrative one. To man- 
age his house he had one of his relations, a 
Mademoiselle d'Hannache, a tall, skeleton fig- 
ure, dry and sallow, shrill of voice, proud of 
her descent, and boring everybody with her 
talent for economy and her genealogical parch- 
ments. She was a woman, however, and that 
is always sufficient to enliven the house of a 



136 



Private Memoirs 



priest; and she had the art of furnishing the 
table of her cousin with elegance and profusion, 
matters in which he was a great connoisseur. 
The Abbe found it extremely agreeable to have 
a boarder in his house of the amiable disposi- 
tion of my uncle Bimont: his table was more 
gay, Mademoiselle d'Hannache better tempered, 
and his backgammon assured. In our visits 
my mother and this cousin were partners against 
the Abbe and my uncle. I appeared to be de- 
serted ; but I accommodated myself admirably 
to this arrangement; for the Abbe received his 
company in a large library, which I put under 
contribution according to my fancy and taste. 
This was a fund upon which I drew till the 
period of his death, which was about three 
years after. One of his brothers having gotten 
into trouble of some kind, the Abbe lost his 
senses, languished for about six weeks, threw 
himself out of a window, and was killed by the 
fall. Mademoiselle d'Hannache, at that time 
at law for the inheritance of her uncle, " the 
captain," was accommodated in the house of my 
mother, and resided with us nearly a year and 
a half. During this interval I was her secre- 
tary ; I wrote her letters, copied her precious 



of Madame Roland 137 

genealogy, drew up the petitions she presented 
to the president and the attorney-general of the 
Parliament of Paris, the administrators of some 
annuities bequeathed by a M, de Saint- Vallier 
to females of rank in reduced circumstances, 
and accompanied her sometimes in her solici- 
tations to various persons, which her affairs 
made necessary. I observed upon these occa- 
sions that, notwithstanding her ignorance, her 
illiterate language, her starched manners, her 
old-fashioned dress, and her other absurdities, 
she was treated with respect on account of her 
pedigree. They listened with attention to the 
names of her ancestors, which she never failed 
to enumerate, and were ready to side with her 
in her claims to the disputed inheritance. I 
could not but contrast this honorable treatment 
with the reception I had met with at Madame de 
Boismorel's, which had left a deep impression on 
my mind. It was impossible to conceal from my- 
self my superiority to Mademoiselle d'Hannache, 
who, with all her genealogy and her forty years 
to boot, could not write a letter that was either 
legible, or dignified with a word of common sense ; 
and I thought mankind extremely unjust, and 
the institutions of society extravagantly absurd. 



138 



Private Memoirs 



But let us see for a moment what became of 
my friends of the convent. From Agathe I 
received, now and then, a letter of that tender 
description that particularly characterizes those 
plaintive doves whose affections are not to ex- 
tend beyond the limits of friendship. With 
these missives she used to send little gifts, 
bon-bons, pincushions, pretty boxes, etc., when- 
ever she had an opportunity to do so, I went 
sometimes to see her. Once I was even ad- 
mitted to the convent to witness a little fete 
in honor of the Mother Superior, a privilege 
begged as a great favor from the Archbishop, and 
of the honor of which I was of course duly 
conscious. When I arrived, all was astir; the 
young ladies were in their best, the hall was 
adorned with flowers, the refectory was loaded 
with dainties. It must be owned that, while 
there was a touch of childishness in the sports 
of these poor nuns, this was nevertheless atoned 
for by a certain ingenuous grace and lovable- 
ness native to the temperament of women, to 
the sprightliness of their fancy, the artlessness 
of their bearing — so long, indeed, as they are 
not under the eye of a sex whose presence 
makes them reserved, when it does not quite 



of Madame Roland 139 

turn their heads. A short drama, trifling 
enough as a composition, it is true, but ani- 
mated by the gayety and the sweet voices of 
the players, came first upon the programme; 
sportive dances followed ; an arch laugh, a 
pleasantry, its effect heightened by the habitual 
gravity of the jester, lent an almost saturnalian 
character to the merriment of these simple 
sisters and their flock. The convent physician 
arrives to visit some patients. Of course he 
must see these wonders ; he is escorted under 
a cloister trimmed with green wreaths, where a 
sort of fair is in progress, the young novices 
selling ballads, others distributing sweetmeats, 
this one drawing a lottery, that telling fortunes, 
on the one side the smaller pupils with baskets 
of fruit, on the other a concert. At sight of his 
doctoral wig the scene changes suddenly: the 
novices lower their veils ; the older girls look 
hastily to the arrangement of their dress; the 
younger grow demure ; I myself hold my guitar 
with a less negligent air. It was suspended by 
a ribbon passed over the shoulder. They had 
wished me to play, and the scenes around me 
had inspired a couplet or two, indifferent in 
themselves, but productive, from their appropri- 



140 Private Memoirs 

ateness, of the most happy effect. Cajon him- 
self would have been satisfied with the manner 
in which I sang them : I had no sentiments to 
express but those to which I could abandon 
myself, and my accents were unrestrained. I 
was desired to repeat them before the physi- 
cian : this was a very different affair ; the voice 
was less sure, and the expression, as it were, 
veiled. Some mischievous sister remarked the 
alteration, adding at the same time that my 
manner was so much the more interesting. The 
doctor withdrew : the joy became general at his 
departure, though there was no one there but 
would have wished him to be admitted. 

Sophie had returned to her family at Amiens. 
Previously to her departure an interview had 
taken place between our mothers. They had 
consecrated, if I may so speak, our connection, 
had mutually applauded our choice, and smiled 
at the promises never to forget each other, of 
which we had made them the witnesses. These 
promises, however, in spite of circumstances, 
have proved, as will be seen hereafter, less 
fleeting than was imagined. My correspon- 
dence with this friend of my affections became 
extremely regular. I wrote to her always once 



of Madame Roland 141 

a week, and generally twice. " And what," 
metliinks I hear it asked, '* could you have 
to relate ? " Everything I saw, everything I 
thought, everything I felt; and surely I had 
subjects enough ! These communications grew 
daily more fluent, more entertaining. By com- 
municating my reflections I learned the better 
to reflect; deriving a pleasure from sharing 
what I acquired, I studied with the more 
ardor; finding it amusing to describe, I ob- 
served what was passing with the greater 
attention. The letters of Sophie were less 
frequent; a numerous family, a crowded house, 
the demands of society, and the very nature of . 
a provincial life, occupied by trifles, by unmean- 
ing visits, and of which a great part is neces- 
sarily devoted to cards, gave her neither the 
leisure to write, nor the opportunity to collect 
materials. For this reason probably she affixed 
the greater value to my letters and thereby in- 
duced me to continue them. 

The death of the Abbe le Jay having de- 
prived me of the use of his library, in which I 
had found historians, mythologists, fathers of the 
church, and literati — for instance, Catrou and 
Rouille, who call Horatius Codes a '^ genereux 



142 Private Memoirs 

borgnc ; " Maimbourg, of a taste equally elevated; 
Berruyer, who has written the history of the 
people of God in the same style in which 
Bitaube has composed the poem of Joseph ; the 
chevalier de Folard, of a character totally 
different, and whose military details appeared 
to me much more rational than the reflections 
of the Jesuits ; the* Abbe Bannier, who amused 
me much more than the Abbe Fleury ; Condil- 
lac and Pere Andre, whose metaphysics, applied 
to eloquence, and to the beautiful of every 
species, gave me singular delight; some poems 
of Voltaire, and the moral essays of Nicole ; 
the Lives of the Fathers in the Wilderness, and 
that of Descartes by Andre Baillet; Bossuet's 
Discourse on Universal History; the letters of 
St, Jerome, the romance of Don Quixote, with a 
thousand others equally congruous — this re- 
source, I say, failing me, I was fain to have re- 
course to the circulating libraries. My father, 
being ill qualified to select, asked for whatever 
I indicated to him. My choice was chiefly di- 
rected to those works of which I had gained 
some knowledge, either by means of criticisms 
or extracts in the books I had already read. In 
this way I was led to translations of the ancient 



of Madame Roland 143 

historians, Diodorus Siculus, for instance, and 
others. I was desirous of reviewing the history 
of my country in some other writer than Meze- 
ray; I accordingly chose the Abbe Velly and 
his continuators, the latter less interesting than 
himself, in periods, too, where, with his talents, 
they might have been more so. From the same 
source I read Pascal, Montesquieu, Locke, Burla- 
maqui, and the principal French dramatists. I 
had no plan, no system, in these readings ; my 
sole view was instruction and knowledge. I felt 
a sort of necessity of exercising my mind, of 
gratifying my serious tastes. I panted for hap- 
piness, and I could find it only in the develop- 
ment of my faculties. I know not what I might 
have been, if placed in the hands of a skilful 
preceptor ; but it is not improbable that, fixing 
my attention upon a single subject, I might 
have extended some branch of science, or 
acquired superior talents. But should I have 
been better or more useful? That is a question 
which I leave to be resolved ; it is certain I could 
not have been happier. I know of nothing that 
can at all be compared to that plenitude of life, 
of peace, of satisfaction, to those days of inno- 
cence and study. They were not, however. 



144 Private Memoirs 

unmixed with trouble. Is the life of man upon 
earth ever exempt from it? 

I had commonly upon my hands many books 
at once, some serving for studies, others for 
recreation. Extended historical compositions, 
as I have already observed, were read aloud in the 
evenings, which were now almost the only times 
when I sat with my mother. The day was spent 
in the solitude of the closet, where I devoted my- 
self to my extracts, to reflection, or other less 
serious occupations. In the holidays of spring 
we went to the public walks, or my father ac- 
companied me to those exhibitions of pictures 
and other productions of art which, in those times 
of luxury and of the species of prosperity that 
belongs to it, were so numerous at Paris. Such 
visits were a source of gratification to him, since 
they afforded him an opportunity of displaying 
his superiority by pointing out to me what he 
understood better than myself; and the taste 
he observed in me was the more pleasing, as he 
conceived it to be the fruit of his own instruc- 
tions. This was our point of contact, in which 
we were truly in unison. My father had his 
share of vanity, and it was evident enough that 
he was not displeased at being seen in public 



of Madame Roland 145 

with a well-dressed young woman leaning on his 
arm, whose blooming appearance frequently 
caused his ears to be regaled with the whispers 
of admiration which it elicited. If any one ac- 
costed him, doubtful of the relation in which we 
stood to each other, he would say, " This is my 
daughter," with an air of modest triumph, which 
I was not the last to perceive, and which touched 
me without making me vain, since I ascribed it 
entirely to parental affection. If I spoke, you 
might see him watching, in those around, the 
effect of my voice, or of the good sense I may 
have uttered, and asking them by his looks if he 
had not reason to be proud. Meanwhile, this 
worldly life, these arts, the imagination they 
awaken, the desire to please, so powerful in 
females, my devotion, my studies, my reason, 
and my faith, how are all these to be reconciled ? 
This was precisely the origin of the trouble of 
which I have just spoken, the progress and 
effects of which are worthy of an exposition, 
which however it is not a little difficult to give. 
With the bulk of mankind, formed rather to feel 
than to think, the passions give the first shock 
to their creed, when that creed has been imbibed 
from education. It is the passions that raise 



146 Private Memoirs 

the first contradictions between the principles 
that have been adopted, the desires that cannot 
easily be quelled, and the institutions of a policy 
ill calculated to reconcile them ; but in a young 
mind given to reflection, and placed out of reach 
of the seductions of the world, it is reason that 
first gives the alarm, and urges us to examine, 
before we have any interest to doubt. Mean- 
while, though my inquietude was unalloyed with 
selfish considerations, it was not on that account 
independent of my sensibility : I thought from 
the heart; and my reason, though remaining 
impartial, was never indifferent. 

The first thing that shocked me in my re- 
ligion, which I professed with the seriousness 
of a solid and logical mind, was the sweeping 
damnation of all those who had not known and 
believed in it. When, instructed by history, 
I had well considered the extent of the earth, 
the succession of ages, the progress of empires, 
the virtues and errors of so many nations, I 
found the idea weak, absurd, and impious, of 
a Creator who should devote to eternal torment 
those countless beings, the frail work of His 
hands, cast on the earth in the midst of such 
perils, and in the night of an ignorance which 



of Madame Roland 147 

has proved the root of a thousand misfortunes. 
" I am deceived in this article of my faith, it 
is evident; am I not equally wrong in some 
others? Let me examine." From the moment 
a Catholic has arrived at this point, the Church 
may regard him as lost. I perfectly conceive 
why the priesthood require a bHnd submission, 
and preach so ardently that religious credu- 
lity which adopts without examination, and 
adores without murmuring ; this is the basis of 
their empire, which is destroyed as soon as we 
begin to investigate. Next to the doctrine of 
exclusive salvation, the absurd idea of infalli- 
bility was the most indigestible, and I rejected 
that like the other. " What then remains that 
is true?" said I. This became the object of a 
research continued during a number of years 
with an activity, and sometimes an anxiety, of 
mind, which it is difficult to describe. Critical, 
moral, philosophical, and metaphysical writers 
became my favorite study. I was solicitous to 
find some one who should assist me in my 
choice ; and their analysis and comparison occu- 
pied almost all my attention. I had lost the 
monk of Saint Victor, my confessor ; the good 
M. Lallement, to whose honesty and discretion 



148 Private Memoirs 

I rejoice now to testify, was dead. Under the 
necessity of choosing a successor, my attention 
was directed to the Abbe Morel, who belonged 
to our parish, and whom I had seen at my 
uncle's ; he was a little man, not deficient in 
understanding, and who professed the utmost 
austerity of principle, which trait was the motive 
that determined me in my choice. When my 
faith wavered, he was sure to be the first who 
was informed of it ; for I never could tell any- 
thing but the truth; and he was eager to put 
into my hands the apologists and champions of 
Christianity. Behold me then closeted with the 
Abbe Gauchat, the Abbe Bergier, Abbadie, 
Holland, Clarke, and others. I studied them 
patiently, and I sometimes made notes, which I 
left in the book when I returned it to the Abbe 
Morel, who asked with astonishment if it was I 
who had written and conceived them. It is 
pleasant to remark that in these books I became 
acquainted with the authors they pretended to 
refute, and learned the titles of their works so 
as to be able to procure them; thus furnishing 
myself with the arms of deism from the very 
arsenal of Christianity. In this way did the 
treatise on " Toleration," the " Dictionnaire Phi- 



of Madame Roland 149 

losophique," " Questions on the Encyclopedia,'" 
the " Bon Sens " of the Marquis d'Argens, the 
"Jewish Letters," the "Turkish Spy," " Les 
Mceurs," " L'Esprit," Diderot, d'Alembert, Ray- 
nal, and the " Systeme de la Nature," pass suc- 
cessively through my hands. 

The progress of my mind was not the only 
one I experienced : nature had also its progress 
of different kinds, and was working in every 
way to my maturity. 

To the newly acquired sensations of a frame 
robust and well organized, were insensibly joined 
all the modifications of a desire to please. I 
loved to appear well dressed, found delight in 
hearing it said of me, and occupied myself wil- 
lingly in what was likely to procure me the 
gratification. This, perhaps, is as proper a 
place as any to introduce my portrait. At 
fourteen years, as now, my stature was about 
five feet, for I had completed my growth ; my 
leg and foot were well formed ; the hips full 
and bold ; the chest large, and the bust well 
rounded ; my shoulders of an elegant tournure ; 
my carriage firm and graceful, my step light 
and quick. Such was the first coup d'ceil. As 



150 Private Memoirs 

to my face, there was nothing in it specially 
striking of itself, save perhaps the fresh color, 
the tenderness and expression. To go into 
details, " Where," it may be asked, " is the 
beauty?" Not a feature is regular, but all 
please. The mouth is rather large — one sees 
a thousand that are prettier ; but Avhere is there 
a smile more sweet and engaging? The eye is 
scarcely large enough, and its iris is of a gray- 
ish hue ; but, though somewhat prominently set, 
it is frank, lively, and tender, crowned by deli- 
cately pencilled brown eyebrows (the color of my 
hair), and its expression varies with the chang- 
ing emotions of the soul whose activity it re- 
flects ; grave and haughty, at times it imposes ; 
but it charms oftener, and is always animated. 
The nose gave me some uneasiness ; I thought 
it too full at the end, but, regarded with the 
rest, and especially in profile, it did not detract 
from the general effect of the face. The ample 
forehead, at that age exposed and unhidden by 
the hair, with arched eyebrows, and veins in 
the form of the Greek 7, that dilated at the 
slightest emotion, dignified an ensemble remote 
enough from the insignificance of so many 
faces. As for the chin, which was slightly 



of Madame Roland 151 

retiring, it has the precise characteristics attri- 
buted by physiognomists to the voluptuary. 
Indeed, when I combine all the peculiarities of 
my character, I doubt if ever an individual was 
more formed for pleasure, or has tasted it so 
little. The complexion was clear rather than 
fair; its lively colors were frequently height- 
ened by a sudden effervescence of the blood, 
occasioned by nerves the most sensitive ; the 
skin soft and smooth ; the arms finely rounded ; 
the hand elegant without being small, because 
the fingers, long and slender, announce dex- 
terity and preserve grace ; teeth white and well 
ranged ; and, lastly, the plenitude and plump- 
ness of perfect health : such are the gifts with 
which nature had endowed me. I have lost 
many of them, particularly such as depend 
upon bloom and fulness of figure ; but those 
which remain are sufficient to conceal, without 
any assistance of art, five or six years of my 
age, and the persons who see me must be in- 
formed of what it is, to believe me more than 
two or three and thirty. It is only since my 
beauty has faded that I have known what was 
its extent ; while in its bloom I was unconscious 
of its worth, and perhaps this ignorance aug- 



152 Private Memoirs 

merited its value. I do not regret its loss, be- 
cause I have never abused it ; but if my duty- 
could accord with my taste to leave less ineffec- 
tive what remains of it, I certainly should not 
be mortified. My portrait has frequently been 
drawn, painted, and engraved, but none of these 
imitations gives an idea of my person; ^ it is 
difficult to seize, because I have more soul than 
figure, more expression than features. This an 
inferior artist cannot express ; it is probable 
even that he would not perceive it. My face 
kindles in proportion to the interest with which 
I am inspired, in the same manner as my mind 
is developed in proportion to the mind with 
which I have to act. I find myself so dull with 
some people, that, perceiving the abundance of 
my resources with persons of talent, I have 
imagined, in my simplicity, that to them alone 
I was indebted for it. I generally please, be- 
cause I dislike to offend ; but it is not granted 
to all to find me handsome, or to discover what 
I am worth. I can imagine an old coxcomb, 
enamored of himself, and vain of displaying 
his slender stock of science, fifty years in ac- 
quiring, who might see me for ten years to- 
^ The cameo of Langlois is the least imperfect. 



of Madame Roland 153 

gether without discovering that I could do more 
than cast up a bill, or cut out a shirt. Camille 
Desmoulins was right when he expressed'; his 
amazement, that " at my age, and with so Httle 
beauty," I had still what he calls adorers. I 
have never spoken to him, but it is probable 
that with a personage of his stamp I should be 
cold and. silent, if I were not absolutely repul- 
sive. But he missed the truth in supposing me 
to hold a court. I hate gallants as much as I 
despise slaves, and I know perfectly how to 
baffle your complimenters. I have need, above 
all things, of esteem and benevolence; admire 
me afterwards if you will, but I cannot live with- 
out being respected and cherished : this seldom 
fails from those who see me often, and who pos- 
sess, at the same time, a sound understanding 
and a heart. 

That desire to please, which animates a 
youthful breast and excites so delicious an 
emotion at the flattering looks of which we per- 
ceive ourselves the object, was oddly combined 
with my timid reserve and the austerity of my 
principles ; and, displayed in my dress, it lent 
my person a charm that was strictly pecuHar. 
Nothing could be more decent than my dress, 



154 Private Memoirs 

nothing more modest than my deportment. I 
wished them to announce propriety and grace ; 
and from the commendations that were be- 
stowed upon me, I flattered myself that I suc- 
ceeded. Meanwhile, that renunciation of the 
world, that contempt of its pomps and vanities, 
so strongly recommended by Christian morality, 
ill accorded with the suggestions of nature. 
Their contradictions at first tormented me, but 
my reasonings necessarily extended to rules of 
conduct, as to articles of faith. I applied my- 
self with equal attention to the investigation of 
what I was to do, and the examination of what 
I ought to believe. The study of philosophy, con- 
sidered as the science of manners and the basis 
of happiness, became indeed my only study, and 
I referred to it all my readings and observation. 
In metaphysics and moral systems I experi- 
enced the same feeling as in reading poems, 
when I fancied myself transformed into the per- 
sonage of the drama that had most analogy 
to myself, or that I most esteemed. I accord- 
ingly adopted the propositions the novelty or 
brilliance of which had most impressed me, and 
these I held until others more novel or more 
profound superseded them. Thus, in the con- 




CAMILIiE DESMOUrJilSrS 



of Madame Roland 155 

troversial class, I enrolled myself with the Port- 
Royal school ; their logic and austerity accorded 
with my character, while I felt an instinctive 
aversion for the sophistical and pliant doctrine 
of the Jesuits. While I was examining the sects 
of the ancient philosophers, I gave the palm to 
the Stoics. I endeavored, like them, to main- 
tain that pain was no evil. This folly, indeed, 
could not last, but I nevertheless persisted in 
determining not to permit myself to be con- 
quered by suffering; and the small experiments 
I had occasion to make persuaded me that I 
could endure the greatest torments without 
uttering a cry. The night of my marriage 
overturned the confidence I had till then pre- 
served : it must, however, be allowed, that sur- 
prise in certain cases is to be counted for 
something, and that a novice in this philosophy 
may be expected to hold himself more firm 
against an ill that is foreseen, than against one 
that takes him by surprise, and where the exact 
contrary was looked for. 

During two months that I studied Descartes 
and Malebranche, I had considered my kitten, 
when she mewed, merely as a piece of- mechan- 
ism performing its movements ; but in thus 



156 Private Memoirs 

habitually separating sensation from its manifes- 
tations, I became a mere anatomist, and found 
no longer anything attractive or interesting in 
the world. I thought it infinitely more delight- 
ful to furnish everything with a soul ; and 
indeed, rather than dispense with it, I should 
have adopted the system of Spinoza. Helvetius 
did me considerable injury by annihilating all 
my most ravishing illusions ; everywhere he 
posited a mean and revolting self-interest. Yet 
what sagacity ! what luminous development ! 
I persuaded myself that Helvetius delineated 
mankind as they had been disfigured and de- 
praved by an erroneous and vicious form of 
society, and I judged it useful to.be acquainted 
with his system, as a security against the knav- 
eries of the world ; but I was upon my guard 
against adopting his principles respecting man in 
the abstract, and applying them to the apprecia- 
tion of my own actions. I would not so under- 
value and degrade myself: I felt myself capable 
of a generosity, of which he did not admit the 
possibility. With what delight did I oppose to 
his system the great exploits of history, and 
the virtues of the heroes it has celebrated ! I 
never read the recital of a glorious deed but I 



of Madame Roland 157 

said to myself: "It is thus I would have acted." 
I became a passionate lover of republics, in 
which I found the most virtues to admire and 
the most men to esteem. I became convinced 
that this form of government was the only one 
capable of producing such virtues and such 
characters. I felt myself not unequal to the 
former; I repulsed with disdain the idea of 
uniting myself to a man inferior to the latter ; 
and I demanded, with a sigh, why I was not 
born amidst these republics. 

About this time we made an excursion to 
Versailles, my mother, my uncle. Mademoiselle 
d'Hannache, and myself. This journey had no 
other object than to show me the court and the 
place it inhabited, and to amuse me with its 
pageantry. We lodged in the palace. Madame 
le Grand, nurse to the Dauphin, well known to 
my uncle Bimont, through her son, of whom I 
shall have occasion to speak, being absent, lent 
us her apartments. They were in the attic story, 
in the same corridor with those of the Arch- 
bishop of Paris, and so close to them that it was 
necessary for that prelate to speak in a low tone 
of voice to. avoid being overheard by us; the 
same precaution was requisite on our part. Two 



158 



Private Memoirs 



chambers indifferently furnished, over one of 
which it was contrived to lodge a valet, and the 
avenue to which was rendered insupportable by 
its obscurity and its odors, were the habitation 
which a duke and peer of France did not dis- 
dain to occupy, that he might have the honor of 
cringing every morning before their majesties ; 
and this servile prelate, meanwhile, was no other 
than the austere Beaumont. For one entire 
week we were constant spectators of the life of 
the inmates of the chateau, sometimes sep- 
arated, and sometimes united, their masses, 
promenades, card parties, and the whole round 
of presentations. 

Our acquaintance with Madame le Grand fa- 
cilitated our admission ; while Mademoiselle 
d'Hannache, penetrated with confidence every- 
where, ready to batter down with her name 
whoever should oppose any resistance, and 
fancying they must read in her grotesque coun- 
tenance the ten generations of her genealogy. 
She recollected two or three gardes du roi, 
whose pedigrees she recounted with minuteness, 
proving herself precisely the relation of him 
whose name was the most ancient, and who 
seemed to possess most consideration at court. 



of Madame Roland 159 

The spruce figure of a little clergyman like 
Bimont, and the imbecile hauteur of the ugly 
d'Hannache, were not wholly out of place at 
Versailles ; but the unrouged face of my re- 
spectable mother, and the sober decency of 
my apparel, announced that we were bourgeois ; 
and if my youth or my eyes drew forth a word 
or two, they were modulated with a tone of 
condescension that gave me no less offence 
than the compHments of Madame de Boismorel. 
Philosophy, imagination, sentiment, and calcu- 
lation were all equally exercised in me upon 
this occasion. I was not insensible to the 
effects of sumptuousness and magnificence, 
but I felt indignant that they should be em- 
ployed to exalt certain individuals already too 
powerful from circumstances and totally insig- 
nificant in themselves. I preferred seeing the 
statues in the gardens to the personages of 
the court; and my mother inquiring if I was 
pleased with my visit, " Yes," replied I, " if 
only it be soon over; a few days longer, and 
I shall so perfectly detest these people that 
I shall not know what to do with my hatred." 

" What harm do they do you ? " 

"They give me the feeling of injustice, and 



i6o Private Memoirs 

oblige me every moment to contemplate ab- 
surdity." 

I sighed at the recollection of Athens, where 
I could equally have admired the fine arts, 
without being annoyed with the spectacle cf 
despotism. In imagination I traversed Greece ; 
I assisted at the Olympic Games, and I mur- 
mured that I was born in France. Enchanted 
with what I beheld in the golden period of 
the republic, I passed over the disorders by 
which it had been agitated : I forgot the exile 
of Aristides, the death of Socrates, the con- 
demnation of Phocion. I dreamt not that 
heaven had reserved me to be witness of errors 
similar to those of which they were the victims, 
and to participate in the glory of the same 
persecution after having professed the same 
principles. Heaven knows that the misfortunes 
which affect only myself have not extorted 
from me a sigh or even a regret ; I am sensible 
only of those which afflict my country. Upon 
the divisions of the court and the parliament 
in 1771,-* my character and opinions attached 

1 The time of Chancellor Maupeou's famous coup d'etat, 
the installation of the " Parlement Maiipeou." Of the whole- 
sale suppressions in 1771 of the parlements, De Tocqueville 
says : " At this date the radical revolution became inevitable." 



of Madame Roland 16 i 

me to the party of the latter; I procured all 
their remonstrances, and was most pleased by 
those of which the principles and style were 
the most outspoken and daring. The sphere 
of my ideas continually enlarged. My own 
happiness, and the duties to the performance 
of which it was attached, occupied my earliest 
attention ; the desire of instruction afterwards 
made me devour history and scrutinize my own 
surroundings ; the relation of man to the di- 
vinity so variously represented, overcharged, 
and disfigured, excited my notice ; and finally 
the interests of my fellow creatures and the 
organization of society fixed and absorbed all 
my thoughts. 

In the midst of doubts, uncertainty, and in- 
vestigation, relative to these grand objects, I 
concluded without hesitation, that the unity of 
the individual, if I may so express myself, the 
most entire harmony that is to say, between his 
opinions and actions, was necessary to his per- 
sonal happiness. Accordingly we must examine 
well what is right, and when we have found it, 
practise it rigorously. There is a kind of 
justice that man has to observe towards himself, 
should he exist solitary on the earth : he should 



1 62 Private Memoirs 

govern all his afifections and habits, that he may 
be tyrannized and enslaved by none. A being 
is good in itself when all its parts concur to its 
preservation, its maintenance, or its perfection ; 
this is not less true in the moral than in the 
physical universe. Justness of organization, an 
even temper, constitute health ; wholesome food 
and moderate exercise preserve it. The pro- 
portion of our desires and the harmony of the 
passions form the moral constitution, of which 
wisdom alone can secure the excellence and 
duration. These first principles are grounded 
in self-interest, and in this regard it may 
justly be said that virtue is only soundness of 
judgment applied to morals. But virtue, prop- 
erly so called, results from the relations of a 
being with his fellow beings ; justice towards 
ourselves is wisdom ; justice towards others is 
virtue. In society all is relative ; there is no 
happiness independent; we are necessitated to 
sacrifice a part of what we might enjoy, not to 
be deprived of the whole, and to secure a por- 
tion against all assaults. Even here the balance 
is in favor of reason. However burdensome 
may be the life of the honest, that of the vicious 
must be more so. He can seldom be tranquil 



of Mctdame Roland 163 

who stands in opposition to the interest of the 
majority; it is impossible for him to conceal 
from himself that he is surrounded by enemies, 
or by those who are ready to become so ; and 
this situation is always painful, however splendid 
it appear. Let us add to these considerations 
the sublime rectitude of instinct which corruption 
may lead astray, but which no false philosophy 
can ever annihilate ; which impels us to admire 
and love wisdom and generosity of conduct as we 
do grandeur and beauty in nature and the arts 
— and we shall have the source of human virtue 
independent of every religious system, of the in- 
tricacies of metaphysics, and of the impostures 
of priests. When I had combined and demon- 
strated these truths, my heart expanded with 
joy ; they offered me a port in the tempest, and 
afforded me a station, whence I could with less 
anxiety examine the errors of national creeds 
and the vices of social institutions. The glorious 
idea of a Divine Creator, whose providence 
watches over the world ; the immateriality of 
the soul, and lastly its immortality, that consol- 
ation of persecuted and suffering virtue — can 
these be nothing more than amiable and splen- 
did chimeras? Yet what absurdities enwrap these 



164 Private Memoirs 

difficult problems ! What accumulated objec- 
tions involve them, if we wish to examine them 
with a mathematical rigor ! — But no : it is 
not allotted to man to behold these truths in the 
full day of perfect evidence ; and what does it 
signify to the sensible soul that he cannot de- 
monstrate them? Is it not sufficient that he 
feels them? 

In the silence of the closet and the dryness of 
discussion I can agree with the atheist or the 
materialist as to the hopeless insolubility of 
certain questions ; but in the bosom of the 
country and in the contemplation of nature 
my soul soars to the vivifying principle that 
animates all things, to the all-powerful mind 
that arranges them, to the goodness that invests 
them with such exquisite charms. Now, when 
thick walls separate me from my loved ones, 
when society heaps upon us evil after evil as 
a punishment for having sought its welfare, I 
look beyond the bounds of hfe for the reward 
of our sacrifices, and the felicity of reunion. 

How? In what manner? I am ignorant; I 
only feel that it ought to be so.^ 

1 I write this on the 4th of September, at eleven at night, 
the apartment next to me resounding with peals of laughter. 



of Madame Roland 165 

The Atheist is not, in my eyes, a man of ill 
faith : I can live with him as well, nay, better 
than with the devotee, for he reasons more ; 
but he is deficient in a certain sense, and his 
soul does not keep pace with mine ; he is 
unmoved at a spectacle the most ravishing, and 
he hunts for a syllogism, where I am impressed 
with awe and admiration. 

It was not suddenly and at once that I attained 
this secure and peaceful station, in which, en- 
joying the truths which are demonstrated to 
me, and resigning myself with confidence to 
the feelings that constitute my happiness, I am 
content to be ignorant of what cannot be 
known, without being disturbed by the opinions 
of others. I compress in a few words the 
essence of many years' meditation and study, 
in the course of which I have sometimes shared 
the zeal of the theist, the austerity of the 

The actresses of the Thedtre Fran^ais were arrested yester- 
day, and conducted to Sauite Pelagie. To-day they were taken 
to their own apartments to witness the ceremony of taking 
off the seals, and are now returned to the prison, where the 
peace-officer is supping and amusing himself with them. The 
meal is noisy and frolicsome ; I catch the sound of coarse 
jests, while foreign wines sparkle in the goblet. The place, 
the object, the persons, my occupation, altogether form a 
contrast which appears to me sufficiently curious. 



1 66 Private Memoirs 

atheist, and the indifference of the sceptic. 
These fluctuations were always sincere, as I 
had no inducement to change my opinions for 
the purpose of countenancing a relaxation of 
manners ; my system of conduct was fixed be- 
yond the power of prejudice to shake ; I some- 
times felt the agitation of doubt, but never the 
torments of fear. I conformed to the estab- 
lished worship, because my age, my sex, my 
situation, made it my duty to do so ; but, incap- 
able of deceit, I said to the Abbe Morel, " I 
come to confession for the edification of my 
neighbor, and the peace of my mother ; but I 
scarcely know of what to accuse myself; my 
situation is so calm, my tastes are so simple, 
that, though I have no great merit to boast, I 
have little to reproach myself with. Perhaps I 
am too much engrossed by a wish to please, and 
too impatient with those about me, when any- 
thing occurs to give me vexation. I am also 
not sufficiently indulgent in my judgments of 
others, and, without suffering it to manifest 
itself, I too hastily conceive aversion to those 
who appear to me stupid or dull; but in this 
I will be careful to correct myself Lastly, in 
the exercises of religion I give way too much 



of Madame Roland 167 

to coldness and indifference ; for I acknowledge 
that we ought to be attentive to whatever we 
think it requisite to perform, be the motive 
what it may." The good Morel, who had 
exhausted his library and his rhetoric to keep 
me in the faith, had the good sense to be 
pleased at finding me so reasonable; he ex- 
horted me, however, to distrust the spirit of 
pride, represented with all his force the conso- 
lations of religion, thought proper to grant me 
absolution, and even consented that I should 
attend the holy table three or four times in the 
year out of philosophical toleration, since I 
could no longer do it from the dictates of faith. 
When I received the sacred wafer, I recalled the 
words of Cicero that, to complete the follies of 
men with respect to the Deity, it only remained 
for them to transform Him into food, and then 
to devour him. My mother increasing daily in 
piety, I was less able to deviate from the ordi- 
nary practices, as there was nothing I so much 
dreaded as to afifiict her. 

The Abbe le Grand, friend of my uncle 
Bimont, sometimes visited us. He was a man 
of excellent judgment, who had no badge of 
his profession but his gown, by which too he 



1 68 Private Memoirs 

was sufficiently embarrassed. His family had 
made him a priest, because, of three sons, one 
must of necessity enter the church. Appointed 
almoner to the Prince of Lamballe, and pen- 
sioned after the death of his patron by Penthi- 
evre, he had settled himself in a parish merely 
that he might have a fixed residence, and had 
chosen it near his friend to enjoy his society. 
Affected with great weakness of sight, he had 
become blind when very young, and this acci- 
dent fostering his turn for reflection had ren- 
dered him extremely contemplative. He liked 
to chat with me, and often brought me books, 
which were almost always works of philosophy, 
on the principles of which he spoke freely. 
My mother avoided discussion, and I was afraid 
of pushing things too far ; she did not, however, 
hinder me from reading, nor did she blame my 
choice of subjects. A Genevese watchmaker, 
connected in the way of business with my father, 
a worthy man, who always kept a book among 
his tools and had a tolerable library, with which 
he was better acquainted than most of your 
great lords are with theirs, offered me the use 
of his treasure, so suited to my taste, and I 
availed myself of his kindness. This good M. 



of Madame Roland 169 

Mor6 was capable of reasoning, not only on his 
art, but on morals and politics ; and if he 
expressed himself with a difficulty that my 
impatience found hard to support, he shared 
with most of his countrymen that solidity of 
intellect which excuses the want of grace. 
From him I had Buffon, and many other works. 
I cite this author to repeat what I have said in 
a former part of my memoirs of the discretion 
with which I read him. Philosophy, in devel- 
oping the force of my soul and giving firmness 
to my mind, had in no way diminished the 
scruples of sentiment, and the susceptibility of 
my imagination, against which I had so much 
reason to guard myself. Natural history at 
first, and then mathematics, exercised for a 
time my activity. Nollet, Reaumur, Bonnet 
(who poetizes where others describe), amused 
me in turn, as did Maupertuis, who writes 
elegies while depicting the pleasures of snails. 
At length Rivard inspired me with the design 
of becoming a geometrician. Guering, stone- 
mason and surveyor, who mixed discretion and 
mildness with the simplicity of the artisan, 
coming one day to discourse with my father, 
found me so engrossed with the quarto of 



170 Private Memoirs 

Rivard, that I had not perceived his arrival. 
He entered into conversation with me, and 
informed me that Clairaut's Elements would 
give me much clearer notions upon the sub- 
ject I was studying; and the next day he 
brought me a copy of the work which he had 
in his possession. I found it to contain a sum- 
mary of the first principles of the science, and 
considering that the work might be useful to me, 
and that I could not detain it from the proprie- 
tor so long as I might wish, I formed, without 
hesitation, the resolution to copy it from begin- 
ning to end, including six plates of diagrams. 
I cannot avoid laughing at this operation when- 
ever I remember it ; any other than myself would 
have purchased the book, but the idea never 
occurred to me, and that of copying came as 
naturally as that of pricking a pattern for a ruffle, 
and was almost as soon effected ; for the work 
was but a smaU octavo. This pleasant perfor- 
mance is still, I believe, among my papers. 
Geometry delighted me as long as there was no 
necessity for algebra, with the dryness of which 
I was disgusted as soon as I had passed the first 
degree of equations. I accordingly threw to 
the winds the multiplicity of fractions, and 




GEisrsoisr]s:E 



of Madame Roland 171 

found it more profitable to feast upon a good 
poem than to starve myself with roots. In vain, 
some years after, did M. Roland, paying his 
addresses, endeavor to revive in me this 
ancient taste ; we made, indeed, a great many 
figures ; but the mode of deduction by X and 
Y was never sufficiently attractive to fix my 
attention. 

September 5. I cut the sheet to inclose what I 
have written in the little box ; for when I see a 
revolutionary army decreed, new tribunals formed 
for shedding innocent blood, famine threatened, 
and the tyrants at bay, I augur that they must 
have new victims, and conclude that no one is 
secure of living another day. 

The correspondence with Sophie was still one 
of my chief pleasures, and the bands of our 
friendship had been drawn closer by several 
journeys which she had made to Paris. My 
susceptible heart had need, I will not say of an 
illusion, but of an object upon which to centre 
its afiections, and especially of confidence and 
communication. Friendship offered them, and I 
cherished it with ardor. My relation with my 



172 Private Memoirs 

mother, agreeable as it was, would not have 
supplied the place of this affection ; it had too 
much of the gravity resulting from respect on 
the one part, and of authority on the other. 
My mother might have known everything; I 
had nothing to conceal from her, but I could 
not tell her all. To a parent one addresses con- 
fessions ; one can really confide only in an 
equal. 

My mother, without asking to see the letters 
I wrote to Sophie, was pleased to have them 
shown to her; and our arrangement of this 
matter was not without its humorous side. We 
understood each other without a word having 
passed between us on the subject. When I 
heard from my friend, which I did regularly 
every week, I read to my mother a few passages 
from the letter ; when I had written my reply I 
left it for a day, ready folded and directed, on 
my table, but unsealed ; my mother scarcely 
ever failed to glance over its contents, and 
when I happened to be present on these occa- 
sions I always found an excuse for retiring, 
whether she had seen my letter or not; after 
the supposed necessary interval had elapsed, I 
sealed and dispatched it, but not always without 



of Madame Roland 173 

adding a postscript. It never happened that 
she made any mention of what she had read ; 
but I did not fail to inform her by this means 
of what I wished her to know of my disposition, 
my taste, and my opinions ; and I expressed 
them with a freedom which I should not have 
dared to use with her in conversation. My 
frankness was not at all diminished by this cir- 
cumstance, for I felt that I had a right to exer- 
cise it in its full extent, and that there did not 
exist anywhere a reciprocal right to blame it. 
I have often thought since, that, had I been in 
the place of my mother, I should have wished 
to become the entire confidant of my daughter ; 
and if I have any present regrets, it is that mine 
may not be as I was at that time. Were it so, we 
should proceed on a perfect equality, and I 
should be happy. But my mother, with much 
goodness of heart, was at the same time some- 
what cold. She was prudent rather than ten- 
der, and more circumspect than unreserved. 
Perhaps too she perceived in me an ardor that 
would have hurried me to greater lengths than 
herself Her manner induced me to behave 
without constraint, but also without familiarity. 
She was sparing of caresses, though her eyes, 



174 Private Memoirs 

breathing tenderness and love, were continually 
fixed upon me. I felt upon these occasions her 
heart ; it fathomed mine ; but the reserve 
which surrounded her person gave me a degree 
of reserve in return which I should not other- 
wise have had, and which seemed to increase as 
I advanced towards maturity. My mother had 
a dignity, touching it is true, but still it was 
dignity. The transports of my ardent nature 
were repressed by it, and I never knew all the 
force of my attachment to her, except by the 
despair and delirium into which I was plunged 
by her loss. Our days flowed on in a delicious 
tranquillity; I spent the greater part in my 
solitary studies, transported to the days of 
antiquity, and lost in the study of its history 
and arts, its precepts and opinions. Mass in 
the morning, a few hours devoted to common 
readings, our repasts and our walks were the 
only opportunities of being with my mother. 
Our walks were rare, and when we had visitors 
that were not to my taste, I took care to avoid 
them by remaining in my closet, which my 
mother had not the cruelty to oblige me to quit. 
Sundays and festivals were consecrated to what 
may be called our rambles, which frequently 



of Madame Roland 175 

extended to a distance, owing to my preference 
for the country to the artificial gardens of the 
capital. I was, however, by no means insensible 
to the pleasure of appearing occasionally in the 
public walks; they afforded at that period a 
brilliant spectacle, in which the youth of both 
sexes sustained an agreeable part. Personal 
graces constantly obtained there the homage of 
admiration, which modesty cannot but perceive, 
and of which the heart of a young girl is always 
avaricious. But it did not satisfy mine ; I ex- 
perienced after these walks — during which my 
vanity, powerfully roused, was upon the anxious 
watch for whatever could show me to advantage 
and give me the proof that I had made a good 
use of my time — an insupportable vacuity, an 
uneasiness and disgust, which were too dear a 
price for so frivolous an enjoyment. Used to 
reflect upon and account for my sensations, I 
sought the cause of this dissatisfaction, and I 
found full exercise for my philosophy. 

" Is it, then," I reflected, " to glitter to the 
eye, like the flowers of a parterre, and to re- 
ceive a few evanescent praises, that persons 
-of my sex are formed to virtue and enriched 
with talents? What means this intense desire 



176 



Private Memoirs 



of pleasure with which I feel myself devoured, 
and which is still insufficient to render me 
happy, even when it should seem to be most 
gratified? What good do I derive from the 
prying looks, the flattering whispers, of a crowd, 
of which I have no knowledge, and composed 
of persons whom, did I know them, I should 
probably despise? Am I then placed in the 
world to waste my existence in vain cares and 
tumultuous sensations? Doubtless I have a 
better and nobler destination ! The admiration, 
which I so ardently feel for whatever is virtuous, 
wise, exalted, and generous, tells me that I am 
called to practise these things. The sublime 
and interesting duties of a wife and a mother 
may some day be mine ; the days of my youth 
therefore should be employed in rendering me 
equal to the discharge of them ; I ought to study 
their importance; I ought to learn, by regulat- 
ing my own inclinations, how to direct hereafter 
those of my children; by the habit of self- 
restraint, by the cultivation of my mind, I ought 
to secure to myself the means of effecting the 
happiness of the most delightful of societies, 
of providing a never-failing source of felicity 
for the man who shall merit my esteem and 



of Madame Roland 177 

love, and of communicating to all that surround 
us a charm and lustre that shall be the entire 
work of my own hands." 

Such were the thoughts that agitated my 
breast. Overcome with emotion, my heart 
shed its transports in tears ; and ascending to 
that supreme Intelligence, that First Cause, that 
glorious Providence, that principle of thought 
and of sentiment, which it felt the necessity of 
believing and acknowledging, " O Thou," it ex- 
claimed, " who hast placed me on the earth, 
enable me to fill my destination in the manner 
most conformable to Thy divine will, and most 
beneficial to the welfare of my brethren of 
mankind ! " 

This concise prayer, simple as the heart that 
dictated it, has become my only one ; never 
have the doubts of philosophy, or any species 
of dissipation, been able to dry up its source. 
From the tumult of the world and from the 
depth of a prison, it has ascended with the 
same energy. I have pronounced it with trans- 
port in the most splendid conjunctures of my 
life; I repeat it in fetters with resignation; 
anxious in the former to guard myself from 
everything that was unworthy of the dignity 



178 Private Memoirs 

of my station, careful in the latter to preserve 
the necessary fortitude for supporting me in 
the trials to which I am exposed ; persuaded 
that, in the course of things, there are events 
against which human prudence cannot guard ; 
that the heaviest afflictions cannot crush the 
virtuous, the firm-fixed soul ; and that peace 
with one's self, resignation to one's lot, are the 
elements of felicity, and form the true inde- 
pendence of the sage and the hero. 

The country presented objects more con- 
genial to my habits of meditation, to that 
serious, tender, and pensive disposition,' forti- 
fied by reflection and the developments of a 
sensible heart. We often went to Meudon, 
which was my favorite walk. I preferred its 
wild woods, its solitary ponds, its pine vistas, 
and its lofty groves, to the frequented paths 
and uniform coppices of the Bois de Boulogne, 
to the decorations of Bellevue, or the clipped 
alleys of St. Cloud. 

" Where shall we go to-morrow, if the weather 
be fine ? " said my father on the Saturday even- 
ings in summer, looking smilingly at me ; " shall 
we go to St. Cloud ? The fountains are to play : 
there will be a world of company." 



of Madame Roland 179 

" Ah, papa ! I should like it far better if you 
would go to Meudon." 

By five the next morning everybody was up ; 
a light dress, clean and simple, some flowers, 
and a gauze veil, announced the plan of the day. 
The Odes of Rousseau, a volume of Corneille, 
or some other author, constituted my baggage. 
We embarked at the Port-Royal, which I could 
see from my window, in a little boat that 
smoothly and swiftly conveyed us to the shores 
of Bellevue, not far from the glassworks, the 
thick black smoke of which was visible at some 
distance. Thence by steep paths we gained the 
avenue of Meudon, a little beyond the midway 
of which was a little cottage on the right, which 
became one of our resting-places. It was the 
house of a widow, a milkwoman, who lived 
there with her two cows and her poultry. As it 
was important to spend the best hours of the day 
in our ramble, we agreed to stop at the cottage 
on our return, to drink a cup of fresh milk with 
our hostess. This arrangement came to form 
a regular part of the day's programme, and 
thenceforth we seldom entered the avenue 
without stopping to tell our friend that she 
might expect to see us in the evening or the 



i8o Private Memoirs 

next day, and that she must not forget our 
bowl of milk. 

The good woman received us with much kind- 
ness ; and our repast, seasoned with a cheerful 
temper, had always the air of a little feast, of 
which some remembrance survived each time in 
the pocket of the milkwoman. Our dinner we 
took at the lodge of one of the Swiss of the park ; 
but my turn for exploration soon led to the dis- 
covery of a retreat better suited to my taste. 
One day, after having strolled a long time in an 
unfrequented part of the wood, we reached a 
solitary spot at the end of an alley of lofty trees, 
the silence of which was rarely disturbed by 
promenaders. A few trees scattered on the 
smooth sward almost concealed a pretty, two- 
storied cottage. "Ah! what is here?" ex- 
claimed one of us. 

Two fine children were playing before the 
door, which was open. They had neither 
the town-bred air, nor those marks of poverty 
and distress that belong to the country. We 
approached : we saw upon the left a kitchen 
garden, with an old man at work in it. We 
entered, and opened a conversation. The 
name of the place was Ville Bonne ; its occu- 



of Madame Roland i8i 

pant was the water-bailiff of the Moulin-Rouge, 
whose office it was to see that the artificial 
canals of the park were kept in repair. His 
small salary contributed in part to support a 
little family, of which the two children were 
members, and the old man their grandfather. 
It was the occupation of the mother to take 
care of the house, of the old man to cultivate 
the garden, and of the son to carry its produce 
to market, whenever his avocations would al- 
low him. The garden was a long square, 
divided into four parts ; a walk sufficiently 
wide led round them; in the centre was a pond 
for irrigation ; at the farther end was an arbor 
of yews inclosing a stone bench, inviting at 
once for rest and shade. Flowers interspersed 
among the kitchen plants gave the garden an 
air of gayety and beauty. The old man, sturdy 
and contented, reminded me of the peasant of 
the banks of the Galesus, whom Virgil has 
sung. He talked with an obliging air, and in 
a sensible tone. A taste for simplicity would 
alone have made such an encounter agreeable ; 
but my fancy did not fail to surround it with a 
thousand imaginary charms. We asked whether 
they were in the habit of receiving guests. 



i8 2 Private Memoirs 

" Strangers seldom come to this place," said 
the old man ; " scarcely anybody finds it ; but 
when they do, we willingly serve to them the 
produce of our farm-yard and our garden." 
We expressed a desire to dine with him, and 
we had a repast of new-laid eggs, pulse, and 
a salad, in a pretty arbor of honeysuckle be- 
hind the house. I never ate so delicious a 
meal. My heart expanded in contemplating 
the tranquillity and innocence of so charming 
a situation. I caressed the children ; I accosted 
the old man with reverence. The mother 
seemed pleased with the task of serving us. 
They told us of two rooms in their house which 
they could let for three months to anybody that 
was disposed to hire them. We formed the 
project of becoming their tenants. This plan 
was never carried out; nor have I seen Ville 
Bonne from that time.^ 

Meudon had been our usual resort before we 
made this discovery, and we had fixed upon a 
little inn in the village for our lodging, whenever 
two holidays coming together permitted us to 
prolong our absence. At this inn, the sign of 

^ There is a lapse of memory here, for Madame Roland 
speaks later on of a second visit to Ville Bonne. 



of Madame Roland 183 

which I think was the Queen of France, we met 
with a humorous adventure. We occupied a 
two-bedded room ; in the largest of the beds I 
slept with my mother ; the other, which was in 
a corner, served my father. One evening, as 
soon as he was in bed, the fancy took him of 
drawing his curtains perfectly close, and he 
pulled them with so good a will as to bring the 
tester and all its apparatus upon him at once. 
After a moment of alarm, we began to laugh 
very heartily at the accident: the tester had 
fallen in a true perpendicular, so as to form a 
perfect cage for my father without hurting him. 
We called for assistance to set him at liberty; 
the good woman of the house arrived ; she was 
astonished to see her bed stripped of the hon- 
ors of its capital, and exclaimed, with the ut- 
most simplicity, " My God, how could this 
happen? It is seventeen years since the bed 
was put up in that very spot ; and in all that 
time it has never budged an inch." The logic 
of the hostess made me laugh more than the 
crash of the bed. I recollected it however 
afterwards, and thought I could often see suffi- 
cient reason to compare the arguments I heard 
in the world with the logic of the landlady of 



184 Private Memoirs 

Meudon, Upon such occasions I would whis- 
per to my mother, and say, " Now that is as 
good as the argument of the seventeen years 
to prove the immovabiHty of the bed." 

Delightful Meudon ! how oft have I breathed 
peace and joy beneath thy shades, blessing the 
great Author of my existence, and desiring 
what might at some future time complete it, but 
with that charming tranquillity, that desire with- 
out impatience, which does but color the clouds 
of futurity with the rays of hope. How many 
times have I gathered in thy cool retreat 
branches of the spotted fern, and flowers of the 
gay woodbine ! How was I enchanted to repose 
under the lofty trees near the smooth lawns, 
where I saw passing sometimes the swift and 
timorous fawn ! I recall those still deeper 
coverts, where we retired from the heat of the 
day. There, while my father, stretched on the 
turf, and my mother, peacefully reclined on a 
heap of leaves which I had collected for the pur- 
pose, enjoyed their noontide nap, did I contem- 
plate the majesty of thy silent groves, admire 
the beauty of nature, and adore the Providence 
whose benefits I felt. The glow of sentiment 
warmed my humid cheeks, and the charms of 




„l-ers-rFggyi.£»y:ig*»^;^^-i y 



CHATEAU DJE MIEUDOIST 

ABOUT 1710 



of Madame Roland 185 

the terrestrial paradise existed for my heart in 
thy wild and rural recesses ! 

The recitals of my rambles, and the delight 
they afforded me, had their place in my letters 
to Sophie; sometimes my prose was inter- 
spersed with verse, the artless but facile and 
sometimes happy effusions of a soul to which 
all was life, joy, and pageant. Sophie, as I have 
observed, found herself cast into a world where 
she had none of the pleasures which she knew 
me to enjoy. I was acquainted with some per- 
sons of her family, and I learned from their 
society to appreciate more highly my dear retire- 
ment and solitude. In one of her journeys with 
her mother, she stopped at Paris with some 
cousins, who were called the demoiselles de 
Lamotte. They were two maiden ladies, of 
whom one, a sour devotee, never stirred from 
her chamber, where she said her prayers, scolded 
the domestics, knitted stockings, and reasoned 
with tolerable acuteness about her personal in- 
terests; the other a good sort of woman, kept 
to the parlor, .did the honors of the house, read 
the psalms, and enjoyed her game at quadrille. 
Both set great store upon the nobility of their 
blood, and could scarcely conceive the possi- 



1 86 Private Memoirs 

bility of composing their society of persons 
whose father at least had not been ennobled ; 
and, without daring to use it, kept under safe 
custody the sac with which their mother used 
to appear at church, as an evidence of their high 
descent. They had taken under their protection 
a young woman, their relation, whose slender 
fortune they proposed to augment, provided 
she could find a gentleman to espouse her. 
Mademoiselle d'Hangard was a tall brunette, of 
a ruddy complexion, and health so vigorous as 
almost to disgust; whose provincial manners 
were little calculated to conceal her defects of 
temper and commonness of mind. But the odd- 
est specimen in this household was the coun- 
sellor Perdu, a widower who had wasted his 
fortune in idleness ; and whom his sister (the 
mother of my Sophie) had installed with his 
cousins as a lodger in order that he might pass 
in decency the remaining years of his useless 
existence. M. Perdu, plump and well-kept, 
devoted the bulk of the morning to the care of 
his precious person. At table he ate slowly, 
abusing the dishes the while, and he passed 
several hours of the day (which he deigned 
to close with a game of piquet) in declaiming 



of Madame Roland 187 

at Luxembourg. He attached even more im- 
portance to his gentility than did his cousins, 
and piqued himself upon practising all the airs, 
and laying down all the principles of it. When 
I spoke of this uncle of hers to Sophie, I 
could never call him by any other appellation 
than the " Commandeur," so strongly did he re- 
semble the character under that title drawn by 
Crebillon in his " Pere de Famille." Accord- 
ingly, with his nieces the " Commandeur " had 
always an air of superiority, which he pretended 
to temper with the condescensions of politeness ; 
but there was something whimsically absurd in 
his behavior to Mademoiselle d'Hangard, whose 
ruddy complexion and continual presence, in- 
flaming his imagination, inspired him with sen- 
sations he dared not betray, and occasioned 
ill-humor of which his nephew was in general 
the sufferer. 

This nephew, whom they called Selincour, 
was a well grown youth, with a pleasing voice 
and an interesting face, and resembled a little his 
sister Sophie. He was a vivacious talker, and 
his engaging manners were not disfigured by a 
certain timidity — at least such was my opinion, 
towards whom this trait was principally mani- 



1 88 Private Memoirs 

fested. The wishes of his family appeared to 
point him out as the suitor of Mademoiselle 
d'Hangard. 

As to the society of the demoiselles de 
Lamotte, it was composed of a Count d'Essales, 
created a Chevalier of St. Louis at Canada, 
where he had married the daughter of the 
governor ; ignorant, vain, garrulous, and a brag- 
gart, but taking care to keep well away from 
the scent of powder, he had just formed an 
acquaintance with a Marchioness de Cailla- 
velle, a dowager with whom he had more than 
one game to play, which the old ladies did 
not detect. Madame Bernier, a rigid Jansenist, 
but otherwise a sensible woman, whose husband 
had quitted the Parliament of Brittany at the 
time of the affair of la Chalotais, also made her 
appearance sometimes, but more rarely, with 
her two daughters, the one a blue-stocking, the 
other a devotee. The tender heart of the latter 
would have attracted me ; but her bent neck 
bore with difficulty a head so crammed with 
religion, that there was no room there for 
reasoning. The savante, with rather too much 
loquacity, had judgment and taste enough just 
to render a repulsive figure supportable. But 



of Madame Roland 189 

M. de Vouglans soared above them all. A 
delineation of his character would be super- 
fluous to those who have read the book entitled, 
" Reasons for my Faith in Jesus Christ, by a 
Magistrate," and the " Collection of Penal Laws," 
an elaborate compilation, in which fanaticism and 
atrocity emulate each other. I never met with 
a man whose sanguinary intolerance so terribly 
shocked me. He was delighted with the con- 
versation of Father Romain Joly, a little old 
Capuchin confessor of the demoiselles de La- 
motte, who made verses against Voltaire, in 
which he compared him to the devil, and cited 
continually in the .pulpit the laws of Charle- 
magne, and the edicts of our monarchs. I 
have had the advantage of dining with him at 
the table of the Lamottes, of hearing him at 
my parish church, and of reading his " Phae- 
ton." He would have afforded me a capital 
subject for caricature, had I then had the cour- 
age to strip away his frock, and expose his 
hypocrisy and folly and his puerile attain- 
ments. The friend of Sophie cut an amusing 
figure in that society, where it was regretted, 
in her absence, that " a young person so well 
brought up lacked the advantage of birth." I 



190 Private Memoirs 

do not doubt that the " Commandeur," with his 
usual sagacity, had more than once gravely con- 
sidered whether such a connection was quite 
suitable for his niece. But the " young person " 
was at least well behaved, a quality on which his 
cousins laid great stress ; and, except as to some 
phrases " qui sentaient resprit," and which the 
" Commandeur " did not fail to animadvert upon 
to his niece, even he could not refrain from be- 
stowing his encomiums. Nay, he would some- 
times take charge of the letters of Sophie, 
and condescend to bring them himself to my 
mother's : a circumstance that would have hap- 
pened much more frequently to Selincour, if 
his sister would have consented to his execut- 
ing the commission. 

The insignificance and disgusting oddities of 
these personages — and without doubt, thought 
I, there must be multitudes in the world of a 
similar complexion — made me reflect on the in- 
anity of society and the advantage of not being 
constrained to frequent it. Sophie gave me a 
list of the persons with whom she associated at 
Amiens, with a sketch, as nearly as she could 
delineate it, of their characters, which enabled 
me to judge of the resources and qualifications 



of Madame Roland 191 

of the majority of them ; and when the bal- 
ance was struck, it appeared that, at the end 
of the year, I had seen in my soHtude more 
people of merit than she had been able to per- 
ceive in all the concourse and dazzle of fashion. 
This is not difficult to conceive, if it be remem- 
bered that the business of my father connected 
him with a variety of artists, of whom, though 
none visited him regularly, many were found 
occasionally at his house. Those who inhabit 
the capital, even if they are not of the first 
rank, acquire a fund of information and a kind 
of urbanity that assuredly are not to be found 
in the provincial gentry, or in the class of mer- 
chants eager to make a fortune that they may 
purchase a title. The conversation of the good 
Jollain, a painter of the Academy ; of the honest 
Lepine, pupil of Pigale; of Desmarteau, who 
sometimes worked with my father on the same 
plate ; of the son of Falconet, of d'Hauterne, 
whose talents would have borne him on rapid 
wings to the Academy, had not his Protes- 
tantism been in the way; of the Genevese 
watchmakers, Ballexserd and Mor6, the former 
of whom has written on the physical branch of 
education, — was certainly infinitely preferable 



1^2 Private Memoirs 

to that of Cannet with all his hoard of wealth, 
who seeing the success of a tragedy composed by 
his kinsman Belloy, and calculating the profits 
of it, said seriously, and with some irritation: 
"Why did not my father teach me to write 
tragedies? I could have composed them on 
Sundays and holidays." And yet these wealthy 
blockheads, these despicable nobles, these im- 
pertinent militaives like d'Essales, these miser- 
able magistrates like Vouglans, conceived 
themselves the props of civil society, and ac- 
tually enjoyed privileges denied to merit ! I 
compared these absurdities of human arrogance 
with the pictures of Pope, tracing its effects 
from the cobbler to the king, the one vain of 
his apron, the other of his crown; and I en- 
deavored to conclude with him that "what- 
ever is, is right; " but my free and independent 
temper could not but perceive that it was much 
better in a republic. 

There is no doubt that our situation in life 
influences considerably our characters and opin- 
ions ; but, in the education I received, in the 
ideas I acquired, whether by study or by obser- 
vation of the world, everything may be said to 
have conspired to instil into my mind a repub- 



of Madame Roland 193 

lican enthusiasm, by causing me to perceive the 
folly, or feel the injustice of a multitude of 
social pre-eminences and distinctions. Thus, 
in all my readings, I was impassioned for the 
reformers of inequality; I was Agis and Cleo- 
menes at Sparta, the Gracchi at Rome ; and, 
like Cornelia, I should have reproached my 
sons for permitting me to be called only the 
mother-in-law of Scipio ; I retired with the 
plebeians to the Aventine, and I voted for the 
tribunes. Now that experience has taught me 
to appreciate everything with impartiality ; I see 
in the enterprise of the Gracchi and in the con- 
duct of the tribunes crimes and mischiefs which 
did not then sufficiently strike me. 

When I happened to be present at any of the 
spectacles so frequent in the capital, as the 
entrances of the queen or princes, thanksgiving 
after a lying-in, etc., I compared with grief this 
insolent pomp of Asiatic luxury with the abject 
misery of the deluded people, who prostrated 
themselves before these idols of their own mak- 
ing, and foolishly applauded the ostentatious 
magnificence which they paid for themselves 
with the necessaries of life. The dissolute 
character of the court during the last years of 
13 



194 Private Memoirs 

Louis XV., that contempt of morals which 
reigned in all ranks of the nation, those ex- 
cesses which were the commonplaces of con- 
versation, struck me with astonishment and 
indignation. Not then observing the germs of 
a revolution, I asked with surprise how things 
could endure in this state? I had remarked in 
history the invariable decline and subversion of 
empires when arrived at this pitch of corrup- 
tion ; yet I heard the French nation singing 
and laughing at its own miseries, and I felt that 
our neighbors, the English, were right in re- 
garding us as children. I attached myself to 
these neighbors ; the work of Delolme had 
familiarized me with their constitution ; I sought 
acquaintance with their writers, and studied 
their literature, but as yet only through the 
medium of translations. 

The arguments of Ballexserd having been in- 
sufficient to vanquish the repugnance of my 
parents to inoculate me in my infancy, I was at 
eighteen seized with the small-pox. This epoch 
has left deep impressions on my memory ; not 
from the terrors I felt on account of the malady, 
for I had already too much philosophy not to 
sustain it with courage ; but from the incredible 



of Madame Roland 195 

and affecting solicitude of my mother. How 
agitated by disquietude ! What tenderness in 
all her attentions ! Even during the night, 
when I asked for anything, expecting to receive 
it from my nurse, I felt the hand and heard the 
voice of my mother. • She was every moment out 
of her bed to attend at my pillow ; her anxious 
eyes devoured the looks, and, if I may so express 
myself, the words of my physician ; in spite of 
her resolution to suppress them, the tears stole 
from her eyes when she looked at me, while I 
endeavored in vain to soothe her agitation with 
a smile. Neither she nor my father had ever 
had the disease, yet neither of them would 
suffer a day to pass without pressing with their 
lips my disfigured face, which I strove in vain to 
conceal from them, fearful lest its touch should 
be fatal. My Agathe, deploring that she was 
confined to her cloister, sent to me one of her 
relations, the amiable mother of four chil- 
dren, whom she had inspired with a portion 
of her attachment for me, and who obstinately 
persisted in seeing and embracing me without 
consideration for herself. It was necessary to 
conceal from my Sophie, then at Paris, the con- 
dition of her friend; and I was supposed to 



196 



Private Memoirs 



have suddenly set off for the country, that the 
critical period might elapse without our meet- 
ing ; but Selincour called every day to learn the 
progress of my disorder, and I heard from my 
chamber his dolorous exclamation when he was 
told that the complication of a putrid fever 
was apprehended. I had fortunately the miliary 
fever; and the eruption which is peculiar to it 
checking the other, the disorder was accom- 
panied only with those large pustules, thinly 
scattered, which subside without suppuration, 
and leave only a dry skin that falls off of it- 
self. It is the species of small-pox, said Dr. 
Missa, which the Italians denominate ravaglioni, 
pustules of false suppuration, and which leave 
no vestiges behind ; and in fact not even the pol- 
ish of my skin was injured by it; but long illness 
threw me into a languor and debility from which 
it was four or five months before I completely 
recovered. Pensive in health, and too tender to 
be gay, but patient in sickness, my sole object 
was to divert my attention from my own suffer- 
ings, and to render less irksome the cares which 
my condition imposed upon those about me. 
I gave fancy the reins, prattled all sorts of 
nonsense, and, so far from requiring to be 



of Madame Roland 197 

diverted myself, it was I who caused the others 
to laugh. 

My physician, Dr. Missa, was a man of good 
sense, and pleased me exceedingly. As he was 
somewhat advanced in years, I could dispense 
with the constraint which I was accustomed to 
show toward those of his sex ; we chatted freely 
during his visits, which he willingly prolonged, 
and we became fast friends. " One or other of 
us," said he one day, " has been much to blame. 
Either I have come into the world too soon, or 
you too late." Though Missa interested me by 
his talents, his age had prevented me from per- 
ceiving that I had any reason to lament being 
born later than himself; and I replied only by 
a smile. He had taken some nieces under his 
care with whom he wished me to be acquainted, 
and we exchanged visits several times ; but, as 
they went out as seldom without their governess 
as I did without my mother, and as their uncle, 
from the nature of his profession, could not 
attend to it, the connection, on account of the 
distance and our mutual sedentary habits, was 
dropped. One day Missa scolded because he 
found on my bed Malebranche's ** La Recherche 
de la Verite." " Good ! " said I, " but if all 



198 Private Memoirs 

your patients would amuse themselves in the 
same way, instead of railing against their 
maladies and their doctor, you would have 
much less business." Some company who were 
then in my room were discoursing of a new 
loan, for which the edict had just appeared, and 
to which all Paris eagerly crowded. 

" The French," said Missa, " take all upon trust." 

" Say, rather," I observed, " upon appear- 
ances." 

" True," returned he ; " the expression is just 
and profound." 

" Don't scold me then for reading Male- 
branche," interrupted I, with vivacity, " you 
see I do not throw away my time upon him." 

Missa was at that time assisted in his visits 
by a young physician, who had recently taken 
his degree, and whom he sometimes despatched 
in advance to wait his arrival. This person, to 
use Missa's expression, would not have had the 
fault of having come too soon into the world ; 
but then to a tolerable person he added a 
consequential air that displeased me. I had 
naturally so strong an aversion to every sort 
of affectation and self-sufficiency that I con- 
sidered both to be the proof of a limited under- 



of Madame Roland 199 

standing, if not of absolute weakness; though 
it is true that, under the old regime, they were 
sometimes only an eccentricity of youth. In 
short, so far from deceiving me, they create at 
once an unfavorable impression, and I always 
form a low opinion of people who display them. 
This is all I remember of the young doctor, 
whom I have never seen since, and whom I 
shall probably never see again. 

The country being judged necessary to my 
perfect recovery, we went to breathe its salutary- 
air at the house of M. and Madame Besnard, 
with whom two years previously my mother and 
I had spent almost the whole of September. 
Their situation was admirably calculated to 
nourish my philosophy and to fix my medita- 
tions on the vices of the social organization. 

Madame Besnard, upon the reverse of fortune 
common to her and her sisters, had entered 
into the family of ^ fermier-ge'neral, whose house 
she superintended ; it was that of the old 
Haudry. She had there espoused an Intendant, 
M. Besnard, with whom, having retired for 
some time from their occupations, she lived 
comfortably in peace and happiness. 

The ill-placed pride of Madame Phlipon had 



2 00 Private Memoirs 

led her sometimes to express in my presence 
and in the privacy of the family how much this 
marriage had displeased her; but, as far as I 
can judge, she was certainly offended unjustly. 
M. Besnard was possessed of integrity and 
honor, qualities that should have recommended 
him the more, as they were rare in his station 
of life ; and the most delicate behavior has 
ever marked his conduct to his wife. It is 
impossible to carry veneration, tenderness, and 
attachment to a higher pitch. In the sweets 
of a perfect union, they still prolong a career 
in which, like another Baucis and Philemon, 
they win the respect of all who witness their 
simplicity of life and their virtues. I esteem it 
an honor to be related to them ; and should 
do so equally, if, with the same character and 
conduct, M. Besnard had been a footman. 

The old Haudry, creator of the vast fortune 
of the family, was deceased, and had left a large 
estate to his son, who, born and educated in 
opulence, was fashioned to dissipate it. This 
son, who had already lost a charming wife, lived 
extravagantly, and, according to the custom of 
the rich, spent a part of the year at his chateau 
of Soucy, whither he transplanted the manners 



of Madame Roland 201 

and mode of life of the town, instead of adopt- 
ing those of the country. He had several 
neighboring estates, of which that nearest to 
Soucy (Fontenay), had an old mansion belong- 
ing to it that he loved to have occupied ; and 
he had prevailed on M. and Madame Besnard 
to accept apartments there, in which they passed 
a part of the summer. This at once contributed 
to keep up the place, and to give that air of 
magnificence to his establishments, of which he 
was ambitious. M. and Madame Besnard were 
well accommodated, and enjoyed the use of the 
park, the wildness of which made an agreeable 
contrast with that of Soucy, and delighted me 
more than the artificial luxury, which distin- 
guished the abode of the fermier-general. Soon 
after our arrival, Madame Besnard requested 
us to make a visit with her to Soucy, where 
the sister-in-law and stepmother of Haudry 
resided with him and did the honors of his 
house. This visit was modestly paid before 
dinner; and I entered, without the least feeling 
of pleasure, into the salon, where Madame 
Penault and her daughter received us, with 
great politeness, it is true, but a politeness that 
savored a little of superiority. The propriety 



20 2 Private Memoirs 

of my mother's behavior, and something too 
that appeared in me, in spite of that air of 
timidity which is produced by a feehng of our 
value and a doubt whether it will be appreciated 
by others, scarcely allowed them to exercise it. 
I received some compliments, which gave me 
little pleasure, and to which I replied with a 
concealed air of irony; when certain parasites, 
Croix de St. Louis, always haunting the man- 
sions of opulence, as shadows flit on the banks 
of the Acheron, came in to restore to them 
their self-complacence. 

The ladies did not fail, a few days after, to 
return our visit. Three or four persons accom- 
panied them, who happened to be at the 
chateau, their paying their respects to us serving 
merely for the termination of their walk. Upon 
this occasion I was more agreeable, and suc- 
ceeded in infusing into my part of the reception 
the proportion of modest and decent politeness 
which re-estabhshed the equilibrium. Madame 
Penault invited us to dinner ; but I was never 
more astonished than on learning that it was not 
to her own table, but to that of the servants. I 
was sensible, however, that, as M. Besnard had 
formerly been in that station, I ought not, out 



of Madame Roland 203 

of respect to him, to appear averse to accom- 
panying them ; but I felt that Madame Penault 
ought to have arranged things otherwise, or 
spared us this contemptuous civility. My aunt 
saw it in th.e same hght; but, to avoid any httle 
scene, we accepted the invitation. These infe- 
rior household deities were a new spectacle to 
me, for I had formed no conception of ladies'- 
maids personating grandeur. They were pre- 
pared to receive us ; and, indeed, aped their 
superiors admirably well. Toilet, gesture, affec- 
tation, graces, nothing was forgotten. The cast- 
off dresses of their mistresses gave to the female 
part of the household a richness of appearance 
that honest tradespeople would think out of char- 
acter to themselves. The caricature of hon ton 
added to their garb a sort of elegance, not less 
foreign to bourgeois simplicity than odious in 
the eye of an artist. In spite of all this, how- 
ever, the fluency of their prate and the multi- 
phcity of their grimaces would no doubt have 
inspired awe into rustics. It was still worse 
with the men. The sword of " M. le maitre,^' the 
attentions of " M. le chef" the graces and fine 
clothes of the valets, could not cloak their gatcch- 
eries or the jargon they affected when they 



204 Private Memoirs 

wished to seem distinguished, or their native 
vulgarity of speech when for a moment they 
forgot their assumed gentility. The conversa- 
tion glittered with marquises, counts, financiers, 
whose titles, fortunes, and alliances shed a 
second-hand splendor on those who so glibly 
discoursed of them. The superfluities of the 
first table were transferred to the second with an 
order and despatch that made them appear as 
if then served for the first time, and with a pro- 
fusion that sufficed to deck a third table, that of 
the servants — for it seems the domestics of the 
first grade called themselves " officiers." After 
dinner, cards were introduced : the stake was 
high ; it was that for which these " demoiselles " 
were accustomed to play, and they played every 
day. I was introduced to a new world, in which 
were reflected the prejudices, the vices, and the 
follies of the great world, the value of which is 
not really superior, though the show be some- 
what more dazzling. I had heard a thousand 
times of the beginnings of old Haudry, of his 
coming to Paris from his village, and rising by 
degrees to the accumulation of thousands at 
the expense of the public ; of his marrying his 
dau-ghter to Montule, his granddaughters to the 



of Madame Roland 205 

Marquis du Chillau and Count Turpin, and leav- 
ing his son heir to immense treasures. I agreed 
with Montesquieu that financiers support the 
state, just as the cord supports the criminal. I 
judged that publicans who found means to enrich 
themselves to this degree, and to use their 
wealth as an engine by which to unite them- 
selves with families of rank, which the policy of 
courts regards as essential to the glory and safety 
of a kingdom — I judged that characters like 
these could belong only to a detestable govern- 
ment and a depraved nation. I little thought 
that there was a government still more horrible, 
and a corruption more deplorable and odious. 
And who, indeed, would have imagined it? All 
the philosophers of the age have been deceived 
like myself. The system I refer to is that of 
the present moment. 

On Sunday at Soucy a dance was held in the 
open air, with no other shelter than the trees. 
Gayety, upon this occasion, suspended distinc- 
tions ; and when the trial fairly came who should 
appear to the most advantage, I did not fear to 
be able to maintain the rank that belonged to 
me. The new-comers asked in a whisper who I 
was, but I did not fatigue their sight with my 



2o6 Private Memoirs 

presence, and, after an hour of this sort of relax- 
ation, I withdrew with my relations to a select 
and sober walk, one moment of which I would 
not have sacrificed to the noisy splendor, always 
cold and uninteresting to my heart, that was to 
enable me to show off my personal charms. 
During my stay at Fontenay I frequently saw 
Haudry, who was still young, assuming the man 
of rank, giving the rein to his caprices, and 
wishing to appear generous and noble. His 
family began already to be uneasy, and his ex- 
travagances with the courtesan La Guerre has- 
tened his ruin. He was pitied as imprudent, 
rather than blamed as vicious ; he was the spoiled 
child of fortune, who had he been born in mod- 
erate circumstances would have proved perhaps 
of some value. Of a dark complexion, a high 
forehead, the manners of a patron, and an air 
of courtesy, he was perhaps amiable among 
those whom he esteemed as his equals ; but it 
was painful to me to meet him, and his presence 
always inspired me with a gravity that bordered 
upon disdain. 

Last year, coming out of the superb dining- 
room which the profuse Calonne caused to be 
constructed in the house of the comptroller- 



of Madame Roland 207 

general, since occupied by the Minister of the 
Interior, I met in the second antechamber a tall, 
gray-haired man of respectable appearance, who 
accosted me respectfully: "I wished, Madame, 
to speak with the Minister ^ when he had risen 
from table ; I have some business with him." 

" Sir, you will see him in an instant : he has 
been detained in the next apartment, from which 
he is now coming out." 

I bowed, and proceeded to my own apart- 
ment. Some time after Roland came to me, I 
asked if he had seen a person whom I described 
to him, and who appeared apprehensive of not 
meeting him. 

" Yes, it was M. Haudry." 

" What, the quondam fennier-ghi^ral, who 
squandered such an immense estate ? " 

" The same." 

" And what had he to do with the Minister 
of the Interior?" 

" He had some business with me on account 
of the manufactory at Sevres, at the head of 
which he has been placed." What a reverse 
of fortune ! a new theme of meditation, — for 
I had already found one when I entered for the 

1 Roland. 



2o8 Private Memoirs 

first time these apartments, occupied by Madame 
Necker in the days of her glory. I occupied 
them then for the second time, and they do but 
attest the more fully the instability of human 
affairs ; but, at least the revolutions of fortune 
shall not find me unprepared. Such were my 
reflections in October, 1792, when Danton sought 
by magnifying me to belittle my husband, and 
was silently preparing the calumnies by which 
he meant to assail us both.^ I was ignorant of 
his proceedings, but I had observed the course 
of things in revolutions. I was ambitious only 
to preserve my soul pure, and to see the glory 
of my husband equally unsullied. I well knew 
that this kind of ambition rarely leads to other 
species of success. My wish is accomplished : 
Roland, persecuted and proscribed, will not 
wholly die to posterity. I am a captive, and 
shall probably fall a victim ; but my conscience 
requites me for all. It has happened to me as 
it did to Solomon, who demanded only wisdom, 
and was endowed with other blessings : I wished 

1 After Roland's resignation as Minister of the Interior, 
when the question came up in the Convention of asking him 
to remain in office, Danton sarcastically suggested : " If you 
invite him, invite Madame Roland too ; everybody knows 
that he has not been alone in his department." 



of Madame Roland 209 

but for the peace of the righteous, and I also 
shall have some existence in future generations. 
But let us return to Fontenay. 

The little library of my relations afforded 
me some resources. I found there the works 
of Puffendorf, tedious perhaps in his universal 
history, but interesting to me in his " Duties of 
the Man and the Citizen ; " the " Maison Rus- 
tique," and other works of agriculture and 
economy, that I studied for want of better, 
because it was necessary that I should be always 
learning something; the pleasant and delicate 
rhymes that Berni wrote when he was not 
restrained by the Romish purple ; a Life of 
Cromwell, and a medley of other productions. 

I must here remind the reader of the fact that 
in mentioning casually the long list of books 
that chance or circumstances had caused to 
pass through my hands, I have as yet said 
nothing of Rousseau. The fact is I read him 
very late — and it was as well for me that I did 
so, since I might have been so completely en- 
grossed with him as to have read no other 
author. Even as it is, he has but too much 
strengthened what I may venture to term my 
cardinal failing. 



2 I o Private Memoirs 

I have reason to believe that my mother had 
been solicitous to keep him out of my way ; for, 
as his name was not unknown to me, I had 
sought after his works, but, previously to her 
death, had read only his " Letters from the 
Mountain," and his " Letter to Christopher de 
Beaumont; " whereas I had then read the whole 
of Voltaire and Boulanger and the Marquis 
d'Argens and Helvetius, besides many other 
philosophers and critics. Probably my worthy 
mother, who perceived the necessity of permit- 
ting me to exercise my head, was not averse to 
my studying philosophy even at the risk of a 
Httle incredulity; but she doubtless felt that 
my tender heart, already too impressible, needed 
no master in the school of sensibility. What a 
multitude of useless cares to avoid one's destiny ! 
The same idea influenced her, when she inter- 
fered to prevent me from devoting myself to 
painting; and had made her also oppose my 
studying the harpsichord, though I had a most 
excellent opportunity for doing so. We had 
become acquainted in the neighborhood with 
an Abbe Jeauket, a musical amateur, good- 
natured, but frightfully ugly, and fond of the 
pleasures of the table. He was born in the 




ROXJSSEAXJ 



of Madame Roland 211 

environs of Prague, had passed many years 
at Vienna, and had given some lessons there 
to Marie Antoinette. Led by circumstances to 
Lisbon, he had at last settled at Paris, where 
he lived in independence on the pensions that 
composed his little fortune. He was extremely 
desirous that my mother would permit him to 
teach me the harpsichord. He contended that 
with such fingers and such a head I must have 
made a great performer, and that I ought not 
to fail to apply myself to composition. " What 
a shame," he cried, " to be jingling a guitar, 
when one might be composing and executing 
the finest pieces on the greatest of instru- 
ments ! " But with all his enthusiasm and his 
repeated entreaties he could not overcome my 
mother's opposition. For myself, always ready 
to profit by an opportunity of instruction, but 
accustomed nevertheless to bow to her de- 
cisions, I did not press the matter. Besides, 
study, in general, afforded me so vast a field of 
occupation, that I never knew the lassitude of 
idleness. I often said to myself: When I shall 
be a mother in my turn it will then be my busi- 
ness to make use of what I shall have acquired ; 
I shall then have no leisure for further studies ; 



2 12 Private Memoirs 

and I was the more earnest to employ my time, 
fearful of losing a single moment. The Abbe 
Jeauket was now and then visited by persons 
of some note, and whenever he invited them to 
his house, he was anxious to include us in his 
party. Thus, among others not worth remem- 
bering, I became acquainted with the learned 
Roussier, and the polite d'Odiment; but I have 
not forgotten the impertinent Paradelle and 
Madame de Puisieux. This Paradelle was a 
great scamp in the gown of an abbe, and the 
greatest coxcomb and braggart I have ever met 
with. He pretended to have ridden in his car- 
riage at Lyons for twenty years ; and yet, that he 
might not starve at Paris, he was obliged to give 
lectures on the Italian language, of which he 
was wholly ignorant. Madame de Puisieux, pos- 
ing as the author of the work entitled " Carac- 
teres," to which her name is prefixed, retained at 
the age of sixty, with a hunch back and a tooth- 
less mouth, the air and pretensions of which the 
affectation is scarcely pardonable even in youth. 
I had conceived that a literary woman must be 
a very respectable character, especially when 
morality was the subject of her writings. The 
absurdities of Madame de Puisieux furnished 



of Madame Roland 213 

me with a topic for reflection. Her conversa- 
tion was as little indicative of talent as her 
caprices were of sense. I began to perceive 
it was possible to store up reason for a public 
occasion, without making much use of it in 
one's own affairs; and I thought that perhaps 
the men who made a jest of female authors 
were not otherwise to blame than in applying 
exclusively to them what is equally true of 
themselves. Thus in a round of life very cir- 
cumscribed did I find means to accumulate 
a fund of observations. I was placed in soli- 
tude, it is true, but yet on the confines of a 
world where I saw a variety of objects with- 
out being encumbered by any. The concerts 
of Madame Lepine offered me a fresh point of 
view. I have already said that Lupine was a 
pupil of Pigale : he was, indeed, his right hand. 
At Rome he had married a woman who, as 
I presume, had been a cantatrice, and whom 
his family had at first beheld with disfavor, 
but who proved by the propriety of her con- 
duct that their disdain was ill-founded. 

She had formed at her house a company of 
amateurs, skilled performers, to which none 
were admitted but those whom she called good 



2 14 Private Memoirs 

company. It met every Thursday, and my 
mother often conducted me thither. It was here 
I heard Jarnowich, St. George, Duport, Gu6rin, 
and many others. Here too I saw the wits of 
both sexes : Mademoiselle Morville, Madame 
Benoit, Sylvain Marechal, etc., together with 
haughty baronesses, smart abbes, old chevaliers, 
and young fops. What a pleasant magic lan- 
tern ! The apartments of Madame Lepine, rue 
Neuve Saint Eustache, were not remarkably 
fine, nor was the concert room spacious ; but it 
opened into another apartment, of which the 
folding-doors were kept open : there, placed in 
the circle, you had the combined advantage of 
hearing the music, seeing the authors, and con- 
versing in the intervals. Seated close to my 
mother, and maintaining the silence that custom 
prescribes to young women, I was all eyes and 
ears — unless we chanced for a moment to be in 
private with Madame Lepine, when I put a few 
questions to her, in order to illustrate to myself 
by her answers such observations as I had made. 
One day this lady proposed to my mother to 
accompany her to a "charming" assembly, held 
at the house of a man of wit, whom we had 
sometimes seen at Madame Lepine's. There 



of Madame Roland 215 

was to be a feast of reason, a flow of soul, a 
reunion of the wits ; there were to be readings 
" most delightful " — in short something " deli- 
cious " was promised. The proposal, however, 
was several times repeated before it was ac- 
cepted. " Let us go," said I at last to my 
mother, " I begin to know enough of the v/orld 
to presume that it must be either extremely- 
agreeable or very absurd ; and should the latter 
be the case, we shall be sure to find for once 
sufficient amusement in its novelty." The busi- 
ness is settled ; and on the following Wednes- 
day, which was the day of M. Vase's literary 
assemblies, we set off with Madame Lepine for 
the barri^re of the Temple, where he resided. 
We mount to the third story, and arrive at a 
spacious room indifferently furnished, where 
were placed rows of rush-bottomed chairs, al- 
ready partly occupied ; dirty brass chandeliers, 
with tallow candles, illumined this resort of the 
Muses, the grotesque simplicity of which did 
not belie what I had heard of the philosophical 
rigor and poverty of an author. Some agree- 
able women, young girls, old dowagers, with a 
number of minor poets, virtuosos, and men of 
intrigue, composed this brilliant circle. 



2i6 Private Memoirs 

The master of ceremonies, seated before a 
table which formed a desk, opened the seance 
by reading a poetic effusion of his own, the 
subject of which was a pretty little lap-dog that 
the old Marchioness de Preville always carried 
in her mufif, and which she now exhibited to 
the company ; for she was present, and thought 
herself obliged to gratify the auditors with a 
sight of the hero of the piece. The bravos and 
plaudits of the whole room paid homage to the 
fancy of M. Vase, who, highly satisfied with 
himself, was to have yielded his seat to M. Del- 
peches, a poet who wrote little comic dramas 
for the theatre of Audinot, upon which he was 
accustomed to take the judgment of the society, 
or, in other words, the encouragement of its ap- 
plause ; but, either because of a sore throat, or 
the want of some verses in several of his scenes, 
or some other cause, he was prevented from 
attending. Imbert, author of the " Judgment 
of Paris," accordingly took the chair, and read 
an agreeable trifle, which was also extolled to 
the skies. A further distinction was in store 
for him. Mademoiselle de la Cossonniere suc- 
ceeded him with a " Farewell to Colin," which, 
if not very ingenious, was at least meltingly 



of Madame Roland 217 

tender. It was known that the lines were ad- 
dressed to Imbert, who was about to undertake 
a journey; and compHments fell upon him in 
showers. Imbert acquitted his muse and him- 
self by saluting all the females in the assembly. 
This brisk and gay ceremony, conducted how- 
ever with decorum, was not at all pleasing to 
my mother, and appeared in so strange a light 
to me as to give me an air of embarrassment. 
After an epigram or couplet in which there was 
nothing remarkable, a pompous declaimer re- 
cited some verses in praise of Madame Benott, 
who was present. Let me here say a word as to 
this lady, for the sake of those who have not read 
her romances, which were dead long before the 
Revolution, and upon which thick dust will have 
gathered long before these memoirs see the light. 
Albine was born at Lyons, as I have read 
in the " History of the Illustrious Women of 
France by a Society of Men of Letters : " a 
history, in which I have been astonished to find 
the names of women (for instance, Madame 
Puisieux, Madame Champion, Madame Benoit, 
and others) that I met in company, and of 
whom some are still alive, or have quitted only 
within a few years their terrestrial abode. 



2i8 Private Memoirs 

Married to the designer Benoit, she had 
accompanied him to Rome, and had there 
been admitted into the Academy des Arcades. 
Lately become a widow, and still in mourning 
for her husband, she had settled at Paris, where 
she made verses and novels, sometimes without 
committing them to paper ; addicted herself to 
gaming, and visited women of quality, who paid 
in presents of money or clothes for the pleasure 
of having a female wit at their tables. 

Madame Benoit had been handsome ; the 
cares of the toilet and the desire of pleasing, 
prolonged beyond the age in which they are 
sure of success, still procured her some con- 
quests. Her eyes courted them with such ar- 
dor, her bosom, always displayed, palpitated 
so anxiously to obtain them, that it was cruel 
not to grant to the frankness of the desire and 
the facility of satisfying it, what men bestow in 
general so readily, when not restricted to con- 
stancy. Madame Benoit's air of undisguised 
voluptuousness was something perfectly new 
to me. I had seen in the public walks those 
priestesses of pleasure, whose indecency an- 
nounced in the most offensive manner their pro- 
fession; but here was a different shade of it. 



of Madame Roland 219 

I was no less surprised at the poetical incense 
lavished on this lady, and the epithets of the 
"chaste" and ''modest" Benoit, so frequently 
repeated in the verses, and which obliged her 
sometimes to screen her eyes with her fan, 
while some individuals of the other sex raptur- 
ously applauded these encomiums, which they 
doubtless conceived to be admirably applied. I 
recalled to mind what my readings had taught 
me on the subject of gallantry, and calculated 
what corruption of heart must be added thereto 
by the manners of the age and the disorders 
of the court, and what vulgarity of taste. I saw 
effeminate men bestowing their admiration on 
flimsy verses and paltry talents, and devoting 
themselves to the seduction of all women indis- 
criminately, doubtless without loving any; for 
whoever attaches himself to the happiness of a 
chosen and beloved object is not ambitious of the 
favors of the crowd. I felt the pang of disgust 
and misanthropy in the midst of objects that 
excited my imagination, and I returned to my 
solitude filled with melancholy. We never re- 
peated our visits to M. Vase ; one had been suffi- 
cient to satiate me, and had it been otherwise, 
the salute of Imbert and the panegyric of 



2 20 Private Memoirs 

Madame Benoit, would scarcely have induced 
my mother to accompany me again. The musi- 
cale of the Baron de Back, very pleasant in 
general, but sometimes also a little tedious by 
the pretensions of this melomaniac, did not see 
us much oftener, notwithstanding the cards of 
invitation that the politeness of Madame Lepine 
made her continually offer us. The same re- 
serve was extended to that gathering known as 
the amateurs' concert. We went there but once, 
accompanied by a M. Boyard de Creusy, who 
had amused himself in inventing a new method 
for the guitar, of which he had begged permis- 
sion from my mother to offer me a copy. He 
was a man of extremely polished manners ; and 
I mention him particularly because he has had 
the good sense to believe that, in a situation still 
regarded by the vulgar as elevated, I should see 
with pleasure those with whom I had not been 
unacquainted in my youth. He called on me 
at the Hotel de ITnterieur while Roland was in 
the ministry; and my reception has assuredly 
convinced him that I attached value and pleasure 
to the remembrance of a time upon which I can 
look back with honor, as I can indeed upon 
every stage of my existence. 



of Madame Roland 221 

As to public places of amusement, they were 
still worse than these concerts ; my mother 
never attended them, and I was taken but once 
during her life to the Opera, and once to the 
Theatre Fran^ais : I was then about sixteen or 
seventeen. " The Union of Love and the Arts," 
by Floquet, offered little in the music, and still 
less in the drama, that was capable of causing 
the smallest illusion, or of sustaining in any 
degree the idea I had formed of an enchanting 
spectacle. The coldness of the subject, the 
incoherence of the scenes, the incongruity of 
the ballets, displeased me; I was still more 
offended by the dress of the dancers ; they had 
not yet discarded hoops ; and nothing could be 
more ludicrous than their appearance. Accord- 
ingly I thought the critique of Piron on the 
wonderful charms of the Opera to be an exag- 
geration greatly beyond the truth. At the 
Theatre Francais I saw " L'Ecossaise," which 
was as little calculated to inspire me with en- 
thusiasm for the drama; the performance of 
Dumesnil alone delighted me. My father some- 
times took me to the shows at the fairs, the 
coarseness of which greatly disgusted me. I 
thus became armed against every temptation to 



222 Private Memoirs 

play the bel-esprit, precisely as the Spartan 
children were against intoxication, by the sight 
of its excess. My imagination felt none of the 
emotions which the fascination of the theatre 
might have caused, had I witnessed a represen- 
tation of some of its best performances ; and I 
was content to peruse in my closet the works 
of the great masters of the drama, and to 
enjoy at leisure the contemplation of their 
beauties. 

A young man, a constant attendant at 
Madame Lepine's concerts, had taken upon 
himself occasionally to call at our house to 
inquire for us, in the name of Madame L6pine, 
when any absence longer than usual gave reason 
to think that we had been indisposed. A polite 
air, an agreeable vivacity, a smattering of wit, 
and, above all, the rareness of his visits, excused 
this little piece of finesse, ingeniously contrived 
to procure admission to the house. At last 
Lablancherie hazarded his declaration. — But 
as I now come to the history of my suitors, it is 
proper to make them file before the reader en 
masse — an admirable expression, that may 
serve as a date to my writing, and also recall 
the glorious period when everything decreed 



of Madame Roland 223 

was eii masse, in spite of the greatest possible 
subdivision of tastes and inclinations. 

The reader cannot have forgotten the Spanish 
Colossus, with hands like Esau's, that M. Mi- 
gnard, whose politeness I have recorded, and 
whose name contrasted so comically with his 
figure. After confessing that he was capable 
of teaching me nothing further on the guitar, he 
had begged the liberty of coming sometimes to 
hear me, and he called at distant intervals, but 
without always finding us at home. Flattered 
with the proficiency of his pupil, regarding it as 
his own work, and proceeding from this prin- 
ciple to attribute to himself a sort of right or 
excuse for his pretensions, and having besides 
given himself out for a nobleman of Malaga 
whom misfortunes had reduced to the necessity 
of having recourse to his musical talents, he 
thought proper to fall in love with me. Absurd 
excuses for his folly were not lacking, and, in 
fine, he resolved to demand me in marriage, at 
the same time not having the courage to make 
his request in person. The remonstrances of 
the friend whom he requested to undertake this 
commission for him did not change his design, 
and it was accordingly fulfilled. It was followed 



2 24 Private Memoirs 

of course by a prohibition to enter our doors 
again, accompanied with those civilities which 
are due to the unfortunate. The jests of my 
father informed me of what had passed ; he was 
fond of detaiHng to me the apphcations made to 
him on my account ; and as he was not a httle 
haughty, he did not spare the persons who thus 
exposed themselves to his ridicule. 

Poor Mozon was become a widower ; he had 
got rid of the wen that embellished his left 
cheek; and proposed setting up his cabriolet. 
I was then fifteen, and he was engaged to com- 
plete my dancing. His imagination kindled; 
he was not deficient in a high opinion of his art, 
and would have thought Marcel was very rea- 
sonable in making proposals to me; artist for 
artist, why should he not enter the lists? He 
made known his wishes, and was dismissed like 
Mignard. 

From the moment a young female attains the 
age that announces maturity, swarms of suitors 
hover round her person, like bees about the 
newly expanded flower. 

Educated so austerely, and living so retired 
a life, I could inspire but one design ; and the 
respectable character of my mother, the appear- 



of Madame Roland 225 

ance of some fortune, the circumstance of being 
an only child, might of themselves render me an 
object of attraction to a number of persons. 

They presented themselves in crowds; but, 
from the difficulty of obtaining a personal 
introduction, they usually addressed themselves 
in writing to my parents. My father brought 
me all letters of this nature. Aside from what 
was stated in them as to the rank and fortune 
of the writers, the mode in which they were 
expressed greatly influenced my opinion. I 
undertook to make a rough draft of the answers, 
which my father transcribed with exactness. I 
made him dismiss my suitors with dignity, with- 
out giving room for hope or resentment. The 
youth of our quarter passed thus in review, 
and in the majority of instances I had no diffi- 
culty in persuading my parents to approve my 
refusals. My father looked only to riches ; and 
his pretensions for me were such that the suitor 
who was but newly established, or whose in- 
come was not such as to render him a " good 
match," had no chance at all of his vote ; but, 
when satisfied in these particulars, it gave him 
pain that I would not consent to the match. 
Here began those differences between my father 
IS 



2 26 Private Memoirs 

and me which from this period were every day- 
augmenting. He loved and esteemed trade, 
because he regarded it as the source of riches ; 
I detested and despised it, because I considered 
it as the spring of fraud and avarice. 

My father felt that I could not accept a 
shopkeeper, properly so called ; his vanity 
would not suffer him to entertain the idea ; but 
he could not conceive that the elegant jeweller, 
who only fingers the rich trinkets from which 
he derives immense profits, was beneath my 
acceptance; especially, too, when he could 
plead a business so well established as to 
promise a rapid and splendid fortune. But the 
spirit of this jeweller, as well as of the little 
mercer whom he regards as below him, and of 
the rich manufacturer who holds himself super- 
ior to both, appeared to me absorbed alike by 
the lust of gold and the calculations for amass- 
ing it; pursuits totally foreign to the elevated 
ideas, and the refined and delicate sentiments 
by which I was accustomed to appreciate exist- 
ence. 

Occupied from my infancy in considering the 
relations of man in society ; nourished with the 
purest morality ; familiarized with the noblest 



of Madame Roland 227 

examples ; should I have lived with Plutarch 
and all the philosophers, only to be yoked at 
last to a tradesman, who would neither judge 
nor feel in any circumstance of life like myself ? 
As I have said, my discreet mother wished 
that I should be as much at home in the kit- 
chen as in the drawing-room, at the market 
as on the promenade. After my return from 
the convent I continued to accompany her 
when she made her purchases for the house, 
and at last she allowed me to make them my- 
self, sending an old servant with me. The 
butcher with whom we dealt had lost a second 
wife, and found himself still young, with a 
fortune of fifty thousand crowns, which he pro- 
posed to augment. I knew nothing of these 
particulars, and saw no more than that I was 
well served, and with a profusion of civilities. 
I was much surprised at seeing this slayer of 
oxen frequently on Sundays, in the course 
of our excursions, dressed in a handsome suit 
of black, and with fine lace to his linen; upon 
which occasions he merely presented himself to 
my mother, made her a very low bow and 
passed on. This practice continued a whole 
summer. I was taken sick; every morning 



2 28 Private Memoirs 

the butcher sent to inquire if there was any- 
thing he could do for us, and to offer every 
accommodation in his power. This sufficiently 
broad hint of his pretensions made my father 
smile ; and one day, when a Mademoiselle 
Michon, a lady of a grave and devout turn, 
came in all ceremony to demand me on the 
part of the butcher, my father, vastly amused, 
led her by the hand to my closet. " You 
know, my dear Manon," said he to me, gravely, 
" that I have made it a principle to put no 
force upon your inclinations. It is proper, 
however, that I should state to you a proposal 
that has just been made to me in your be- 
half." He then repeated what Mademoiselle 
Michon had been saying to him. I bit my 
lips, and was a little mortified that this frolic 
of my father reduced me to the necessity of 
an answer, which he ought to have taken upon 
himself. " You know, my dear papa," replied 
I, mimicking his tone, " that I have made a firm 
resolution not to quit my present situation, in 
which I am so happy, for some years to come. 
You will, therefore, act in this matter as you 
see proper; " and saying this I immediately 
withdrew. 



of Madame Roland 229 

" upon my soul," said my father, the next 
time he saw me, " the reason you gave to 
Mademoiselle Michon is an excellent scheme 
for keeping all the young men at a distance." 

" Indeed, papa," said I, " I did no more than 
repay your frolic, by an expression very becom- 
ing in the mouth of a girl ; and I left it to you 
to give a formal refusal ; a task which it would 
have been wrong in me to take upon myself." 

" Well, you are very well out of that affair. 
But if our friend the butcher does not suit you, 
tell me what sort of a man you must have." 

" Indeed," said I, " if I am hard to please, it 
is really due to yourself; you have accustomed 
me to reflect, and suffered me to study. I know 
not what sort of man I shall marry ; but it shall 
never be one with whom I cannot converse, and 
who is not able to think my thoughts, and share 
my sentiments." 

" There are men to be found in the mercan- 
tile class who are both polite and intelligent." 

" Yes ; but not according to my way of think- 
ing; their politeness consists in a few phrases 
and bows, and as to their knowledge it is con- 
fined to their ledgers, and would afford but little 
assistance in the education of my children." 



230 Private Memoirs 

" But you would educate them yourself." 

" The task would seem a hard one if it were 
not shared by the man to whom they owed their 
existence." 

" Think you that the wife of Lempereur is not 
happy ? They have lately retired from business, 
and are now purchasing places, keeping an ex- 
cellent table, and receiving the best company." 

" I am no judge of the happiness of another, 
and mine is not dependent on wealth ; I con- 
ceive that the strictest union of hearts is requi- 
site to conjugal felicity; nor can I connect 
myself with a man- who does not resemble me ; 
it will even be necessary that he should be my 
superior, for since both nature and the laws have 
given the superiority to his sex, I should blush 
for my husband if he did not truly possess it." 

"You must have, then, some advocate,! sup- 
pose? But let me tell you, these sages of the 
robe are not the men best calculated to pro- 
mote the happiness of a woman. They have 
too much pride and too little money." 

" But, mon Dieit ! papa, I do not appraise men 
by the color of their coats, nor have I said that 
he must be of this profession or of that, but 
a man that I can love." 



of Madame Roland 231 

" Yet, if I understand you right, you suppose 
such a man is not to be found in the whole circle 
of commerce? " 

" I confess it appears to me difficult. I have 
never yet seen in that class of life a man to my 
liking; besides, I dislike the occupation itself" 

" Nevertheless, the lot of the merchant's wife, 
who lives at ease in her own rooms while her 
husband carries on a thriving business in his 
shop, is by no means a hard one. Witness 
Madame d'Argens : she understands diamonds 
as well as her husband does, bargains with the 
courtiers in his absence, and would doubtless 
carry on the business by herself, should she be 
left a widow. Their fortune is already consid- 
erable, and they have a share in the company 
which has just made a purchase of Bagnolet. 
You, Manon, have an excellent understanding, 
and having read the treatise in my library upon 
precious stones, must be particularly qualified 
for such an occupation. Your judgment would 
inspire confidence ; you would do with your 
customers whatever you pleased ; and could 
you have fancied Delorme, Dabreuil, or Lobli- 
geois, what an agreeable life you might have 
led ! " 



232 Private Memoirs 

" Hold, my dear father : I have too often 
observed that Httle success can be expected 
from commerce, unless by selhng dear what 
has been bought cheap, by extortion on the 
one hand, and robbing the poor artisan of his 
due, on the other. Never will I give myself up 
to such practices, and never shall I respect the 
man who from morning to night can devote his 
time to them. I should wish to be a good and 
virtuous wife ; but how. should I remain true to 
a man who held no place in my esteem, admit- 
ting the possibility of my marrying such a one ? 
To me it appears that selling diamonds and 
selling pastry are very much the same thing, 
except that the latter has a fixed price, re- 
quires less deceit, but soils the fingers more. 
I like neither the one nor the other." 

" Do you suppose then that there are no 
honest tradesmen?" 

"I will not absolutely say that; but I am per- 
suaded the number is small ; and let them be 
ever so honest, they have not all that I require 
in a husband." 

" You require a good deal, I see ; but sup- 
posing you do not find this idol of your 
imagination?" 



of Madame Roland 233 

" In that case I will die single." 

" That may be a harder task than you imagine. 
As to the other point, you will have time enough 
to think of it. But remember, ennui will come 
at last ; the crowd will have vanished ; and you 
know the fable ! " 

" Oh ! I will avenge myself of such an in- 
justice by taking care to merit the happiness 
from which I am excluded." 

" Now are you again in the clouds ! Well, it 
may be pleasant enough to soar to these heights, 
but difficult, I fear, to remain there. Do not 
forget besides that I should hke to have grand- 
children before I am too old." 

" I should be perfectly willing to give them to 
you," thought I, as my father put an end to the 
dialogue by withdrawing ; " but not by a hus- 
band that my heart disapproves." I felt a tran- 
sient cloud of melancholy while I considered the 
character of my suitors, among whom there was 
not one of a temper correspondent to my own ; 
but this sensation soon subsided. I felt that I 
was at present happy, and I shed the light of 
a vague hope upon the future. It was, as it 
were, the plenitude of an actual happiness, 
overflowing its banks, and communicating its 



2 34 Private Memoirs 

character to a period and situation that did not 
yet exist. 

"Shall I suit you this time, mademoiselle?" 
said my father one day, with a feigned gravity, 
and an air of satisfaction which was always ap- 
parent when an application had been made to 
him : — " Read that letter." 

It was very well written as to the imagery and 
style, and called more than one blush into my 
cheeks. M. Morizot de Rozain certainly said an 
abundance of pleasant things, but at the same 
time did not forget to remark that his name 
might be found in the peerage of his province. 
I thought it absurd and indelicate in him to 
make a parade of an advantage which he knew 
me not to possess, and of which he had no 
reason to suppose that I was ambitious. " Here 
is still room for hesitation," said I, shaking my 
head, " but we will hear what this personage 
has to say for himself: a letter or two more will 
give us the soundings of the shore. So let us pre- 
pare an answer." Whenever writing was in ques- 
tion, my father was charmingly tractable, and 
copied without reluctance whatever I put into 
his hands. I amused myself with my assumed 
position, discussed my interests with all the 



of Madame Roland 235 

gravity of the occasion, and in a style suitable 
to the parental character. We had no less than 
three explanatory letters from M. de Rozain, 
which I preserved for a long time because they 
were extremely well written. They proved that 
mere powers of mind were not with me a suffi- 
cient qualification in a husband, unless there 
were also superiority of judgment, and those in- 
definable but palpable qualities of soul the lack 
of which nothing can supply. Moreover, M, 
Rozain was an advocate in name only; my 
present fortune was too small for two, nor were 
his qualities such as to tempt me to overlook 
that obstacle. 

In proposing to marshal my suitors en masse, 
it was not my intention to run through the 
entire list; and from this I shall doubtless be 
readily excused. My sole aim was to convey 
the oddity of my situation, beset as I was by the 
addresses of so many admirers whom I did not 
know even by sight, and enjoying so complete a 
freedom of deliberation and choice. I some- 
times noted at church or on the promenade some 
stranger curiously scrutinizing or following me ; 
and then I would say to myself: " I shall soon 
have a letter to write for papa." But I saw not 



236 Private Memoirs 

once among them a figure that specially struck or 
pleased me. 

I have remarked that Lablancherie had had 
the ingenuity to introduce himself to our house, 
probably that he might reconnoitre the country 
before advancing in force. Though still very 
young, he had already travelled and read a 
good deal, and had even published a book. 
His work was of no great merit, but it con- 
tained some good ideas and sound morality. He 
called it an " Abstract of my Travels, for the 
Instruction of Parents," a title certainly not 
distinguished for modesty ; but, as he supported 
himself upon the most respectable philosophical 
authorities, quoted them happily, and inveighed 
with an honest indignation, against that negli- 
gence on the part of parents which is too fre- 
quently the cause of the irregularities of youth, 
he was in some measure to be excused. Lablan- 
cherie, short, dark, and ordinary, did not fire 
my imagination ; but his mind was by no means 
displeasing to me, and I thought I could perceive 
that my person was still less displeasing to him. 
One evening, returning with my mother from 
visiting some relations, we found my father in 
a sort of revery. "I have news for you," said 



of Madame Roland 237 

he to us, smiling. " Lablancherie, who has been 
here for more than two hours, and is but this 
moment gone, has made me his confidant; and 
as what he has intrusted to me relates to you, 
mademoiselle, in particular, I suppose you must 
be made acquainted with it." (The consequence 
was not strictly necessary, but it was customary 
with my father to infer it). " He is in love, it 
seems, and has offered himself; but, as he has 
little or no property, I have endeavored to con- 
vince him of the folly of the proposal. He is 
of the long robe, and means to purchase an 
office ; but as his own fortune is inadequate, he 
proposes to supply the deficiency with the 
dower of his wife ; and, as you are an only 
child, he conceives that, for the first year or 
two, we might all live together. He has said a 
number of those fine things upon the subject 
which readily suggest themselves to a youthful 
imagination, and which it conceives to be un- 
answerable ; but parents who consult the wel- 
fare of their children want something more 
solid to determine them. Let him purchase a 
place and establish himself first; there will be 
time enough afterwards for marriage; but to 
make marriage the preliminary would be plac- 



238 



Private Memoirs 



ing the cart before the horse. Besides we must 
look a little into his character and connections ; 
a business indeed that is soon despatched. I 
had rather he were less of a gentleman, and that 
he possessed instead an income of a few thou- 
sand crowns ; he is, however, a good sort of 
young man. We talked a long time upon this 
subject. My objections were grievous to him, 
but he heard me with patience, and begged that 
at least I would not forbid him the house, to 
which I consented, upon condition that his visits 
should not be more frequent than usual. I 
told him that I should say nothing to you, 
Manon, of what has passed between us ; but as I 
know your discretion, I do not like to keep any- 
thing from you." 

A few questions from my mother, and some 
observations as to the wisdom of one's looking 
before one leaps in these cases saved me the 
embarrassment of a reply, but did not prevent 
me from thinking the matter over for myself 

My father's logic was just, but at the same 
time the proposals of the young man were not 
unreasonable, and I felt disposed to see him and 
to study his character with additional interest 
and curiosity. Opportunities for doing this 



of Madame Roland 239 

seldom occurred ; some months elapsed ; at last 
Lablancherie departed for Orleans, and I saw 
him no more till two years after. During the 
interval I had nearly been married to Gardanne, 
a physician, a match which one of our relations, 
Madame Desportes, had strongly recommended. 
This lady, born in Provence, had wedded a 
tradesman at Paris, and being soon after left a 
widow with one daughter, she had continued 
that business of trading in diamonds which 
my father found so agreeable. Wit, urbanity, 
and an insinuating address, had raised her to 
general estimation, and it appeared as if she 
continued in business merely to oblige those 
who dealt with her. Without going out of her 
apartment, where she received a highly respect- 
able circle of friends (who were largely her 
clients as well), she preserved her little fortune 
and her ease without loss and without addition. 
Advanced considerably in age, she was assisted 
by her daughter, who, out of filial affection, had 
rejected all suitors, preferring the intimate and 
charming union in which she lived with her 
mother. 

Gardanne was a countryman of Madame 
Desportes. Natural good sense, vivacity, learn- 



240 Private Memoirs 

ing, and an extreme desire of success, gave 
reason to hope that this young doctor would 
rise to eminence in a career which he had 
already begun under promising circumstances. 
Madame Desportes, who received him with that 
patronizing kindness suitable to her age and 
character, and which she had the art of render- 
ing amiable, conceived the project of making 
him the husband of her niece. But, dying be- 
fore it was ripe, she bequeathed to her daughter 
the same zeal for its accomplishment. 

Gardanne both wished and feared the con- 
nection. In his calculation of the advantages 
and inconveniences of the grand hymeneal part- 
nership, he was not, like my romantic brain, 
attached to the single idea of conformity of 
character and sentiment ; he reckoned up every- 
thing, pro and con. My portion would be only 
twenty thousand livres ; but the smallness of 
this sum was compensated by expectations. 
The pecuniary arrangements were made without 
my knowing anything of the matter, and the 
bargain was absolutely struck, when I was first 
told, in general terms, of a physician who was 
destined to be my husband. The profession 
did not displease me ; it promised an enlight- 



of Madame Roland 241 

ened mind ; but it was necessary I should know 
the person. A walk to Luxembourg was con- 
trived ; we were in danger of being overtaken 
by a shower, or at least so it was pretended, 
and we took refuge in the house of a Mademoi- 
selle de la Barre, a great Jansenist, and a friend 
of Madame Desportes. She was delighted at 
the accident, and was offering us some refresh- 
ment, when the physician, with his country- 
woman, entered, under the pretext of paying 
her a visit. 

We examined each other narrowly, but with- 
out any appearance of doing so on my part, 
though I suffered nothing to escape me. My 
cousin had an air of triumph, as much as to 
say : " I did not describe her as handsome ; but 
what do you think of her?" My good mother 
appeared tender and pensive : Mademoiselle de 
la Barre was bountiful of her wit, and did the 
honors of her sweetmeats and confectionery. 
The physician chattered away, and made great 
havoc among the sugar-plums, observing, with 
a gallantry that smelled somewhat of the lamp, 
that nothing pleased his palate so well as what 
was sweet ; to which our hostess rejoined, with a 
soft voice, a blush, and a smile, that it was said 
16 



242 Private Memoirs 

indeed men had a taste that way, she supposed, 
because they stood in need of that treatment 
which sweetness inspires. The gallant doctor 
was delighted at the epigram. My father would 
willingly have given his benediction on the 
spot, and was so extremely polite that I was 
absolutely angry with him. The doctor retired 
first to pay his evening visits ; my father, my 
mother and myself returned precisely as we came. 
And this is what is called an interview. Made- 
moiselle Desportes, a stickler for punctilios, had 
arranged all this, because, forsooth, a man who 
has views of marriage ought not to enter the 
house in which the lady resides till he has been 
accepted ; which done, the contract is then to 
be prepared, and the union solemnized forthwith. 
This was the law and the prophets. A physi- 
cian, in the garb of his profession, is seldom 
alluring in the eyes of a young woman, nor 
could I indeed, at any period of life, conceive 
of love in a periwig. Accordingly Gardanne 
with his three-tailed peruke, his doctoral dig- 
nity, his southern accent, and his black eye- 
brows, appeared more likely to cure than to 
impart a fever. This was the feeling that I 
experienced, not a reflection that I made ; my 



of Madame Roland 243 

ideas of marriage were too serious and austere, 
to make it possible for me to find the smallest 
circumstance at which to laugh in such a pro- 
posal. " Well," said my mother to me, in a tone 
of tender inquiry, " what think you of this man? 
Will he suit you?" 

" My dear mamma, it is impossible as yet for 
me to tell." 

" But you can certainly tell if he has inspired 
you with any dislike." 

" Neither dislike nor inclination ; so that there 
is still room for either of these sentiments." 

" And what answer then is to be given, should 
a proposal be made in form ? " 

" Is the answer to be binding? " 

" Assuredly, if we pass our word to a man of 
honor, we must adhere to it." 

"And what if he should afterwards displease 
me?" 

" A reasonable young woman, not swayed by 
caprice, having once weighed the motives that 
determine her in so important a crisis, is in no 
danger of changing her opinion." 

" And must I really decide, then, upon this 
single interview? " 

"Not exactly that; the intimacy of M. Gar- 



244 Private Memoirs 

danne with our family makes it easy for us to 
judge of his condition, his manners, and, with a 
Httle inquiry, of his character. These are the 
principal points in determining your choice ; the 
seeing him is a mere matter of form necessary 
to the adjustment of certain preliminaries." 

" Ah ! my mamma, I am in no haste to be 
married," 

" I believe it, my child ; but we are anxious 
to see you settled ; and you have now attained 
the proper age. You have refused many offers 
from tradesmen, and from your situation you 
will probably be exposed to many more. It 
appears to be your resolution never to accept 
a husband from that class of life ; the present 
offer is of a different kind, and, to all appear- 
ances, quite unexceptionable ; be careful there- 
fore that you do not lightly reject it." 

" But surely, mamma, there can be no imme- 
diate hurry; M. Gardanne himself is probably 
not yet decided, for it is the first time he has 
seen me." 

" I acknowledge the force of your objection ; 
but if this be the only one it will, perhaps, 
speedily be removed. I will not, therefore, re- 
quire an instant answer. Reflect upon the 



of Madame Roland 245 

matter; and two days hence let me know the 
result." Saying this, my mother kissed me, and 
withdrew. 

Reason and nature so powerfully combine to 
convince a discreet and modest young woman 
that it is incumbent on her to marry, that there 
is no room for deliberation but upon the choice 
of her companion. Now, as to this particular 
choice, the arguments of my mother were by 
no means destitute of force. I considered, 
moreover, whatever might be said to the con- 
trary, that my provisional acceptance could 
never be construed into an absolute engage- 
ment; that it was absurd to suppose, because 
I had consented to see at the house of my 
father a man proposed to me for a husband, that 
I was therefore contracted ; and I felt that, 
should he fail to please me, no consideration 
whatever ought to induce me to proceed further. 
So without clinching the matter by a positive 
refusal, I withheld my decision until time should 
enable me to judge. 

We were about setting out for the country, 
where we had purposed to spend a fortnight. 
To delay this journey in expectation of a suitor 
I conceived to be indelicate, and my mother 



246 



Private Memoirs 



was of my opinion ; but before we departed, 
Mademoiselle de la Barre arrived one morning 
ceremoniously dressed to demand me, as it is 
called, on the part of the doctor. My parents 
returned the polite generalities usual when one 
accepts a proposal, with a proviso for later con- 
sideration. Mademoiselle de la Barre claimed, 
on the part of the suitor, permission to pay his 
respects. It was granted. Mademoiselle Des- 
portes, always methodical and accurate, con- 
ceived that she was the person to bring forward 
her protege, and a family dinner, at which 
Mademoiselle de la Barre and a female relation 
were present, served as an occasion for introduc- 
ing the gentleman into my father's house. The 
next day we set out for the country, design- 
ing to pass there the precise time necessary 
for inquiries. The second interview was no 
more impressive than the first ; yet I saw in 
Gardanne a man of intelligence with whom it 
was possible for a thinking woman to take up 
her abode ; and, inexperienced as I was, I 
calculated that where it was possible to carry 
on a rational conversation, there was a sufficient 
prospect of happiness in marriage. 

Mv mother fancied she saw in him indications 



of Madame Roland 247 

of an imperious temper. For my part, I had 
perceived no such traces. Habituated to study 
and watch over myself, to govern my affections, 
to regulate my imagination, imbued also with 
the highest conception of the duties of a wife, 
I could not conceive how a character a little 
more or a little less indulgent could be inter- 
esting to me or could exact from me more than 
I should exact from myself. I reasoned as a 
philosopher who calculates, or as a recluse igno- 
rant of men and of the passions. I took my 
own heart, tranquil, affectionate, generous, and 
candid, for the common measure of the morality 
of my species. I have long harbored this error. 
It has been the true source of my delusions ; 
and I am the more anxious to mention it, as it 
is really the key to my conduct and career. I 
carried with me into the country a sort of mel- 
ancholy inquietude, different from that agitation 
with which the beauties of nature usually in- 
spired me, and that served to heighten its 
charms. I found myself on the verge of a new 
existence ; I was about to quit, perhaps, my 
excellent mother, my beloved studies, my priv- 
acy, in fine my independence, for a state which 
I could not well define, and which would impose 



248 Private Memoirs 

on me the gravest obligations. I thought it 
glorious to have them to discharge, and con- 
ceived myself formed to undertake them. But 
the prospect was not clear to my view : I expe- 
rienced both the desire and the fear of uncer- 
tainty. Mademoiselle Desportes had made me 
promise to write to her ; I redeemed my promise ; 
but, after the lapse of a fortnight, I discovered 
that she was much mortified. My father, who 
was in the habit of taking everything literally, 
would have thought that he failed in the duty 
of a parent and in a proper concern for his 
daughter if he had not made all the customary 
inquiries. Gardanne had been introduced to us 
by one of our relations, who had known him from 
his cradle, and was acquainted with his family. 
All possible information had been afforded, but 
that was of no consequence ; my father wrote, 
at the outset of the negotiations, to three or 
four persons in Provence for the fullest particu- 
lars respecting M. Gardanne's family and history. 
Nor did he stop even here ; he employed in- 
direct means of learning from servants and 
tradesmen the temper and economy of his future 
son-in-law. Finally he went to visit him ; and, 
with a tact equal to that which he had dis- 



of Madame Roland 249 

played in his inquiries, he pretended to know 
all. He cited to him as a man whom he ought 
to esteem, a countryman with whom he had 
quarrelled, and concluded his remarks with cer- 
tain premature counsels delivered in the accents 
and tone of a father. Thus Gardanne received, 
at one and the same time, letters from the coun- 
try in which he was twitted upon the minute 
inquiries that had been made about him, news 
of the inquisition that had been carried on at 
his home, and, finally, a pedagogical homily 
from his intended father-in-law. Piqued and 
irritated, he repairs to the house of Mademoi- 
selle Desportes, complains, with the vivacity of 
a Southron, of the strange conduct of a man, 
whose daughter, though extremely pleasing, has 
the misfortune to have so singular a father. 
Mademoiselle Desportes, no less proud and 
fiery, resents on her part his being so little in 
love with her cousin as to lay stress on these 
trifles, and does riot attempt to disguise her 
resentment. All these circumstances came to 
my knowledge at once, and I embraced with 
eagerness the occasion to put an end to all 
doubt, and declare my resolution never to receive 
M. Gardanne on the footing- of a lover. Thus 



250 Private Memoirs 

ended a negotiation, conducted with such haste 
that Gardanne expected the solemnity to take 
place within a fortnight after my return. I was 
relieved at escaping a danger that menaced me 
so nearly ; my mother, terrified at the impetu- 
osity of the doctor, was satisfied to be thus 
delivered from her fears ; my father endeavored 
to hide his chagrin under the veil of a lordly 
dignity; while as to my cousin, she asserted 
hers by forbidding the doctor to enter her house 
again. Mademoiselle de la Barre told her, five 
years after, that this marriage was written in 
heaven ; that poor Gardanne was determined to 
contract no other; and that Providence, the 
ways of which are inscrutable, was secretly 
preparing the way for this desirable union. 
How sagacious a prophecy ! Of almost as much 
effect and fidelity as the famous note of Ninon 
de I'Enclos to the Marquis de la Chatre. 

My mother's health began insensibly to de- 
cline. She had experienced an attack of the 
palsy, which she described to me under the 
milder name of rheumatism, for she desired to 
spare me the anxiety I should have felt had 
I known the truth. Naturally serious and 
taciturn, she became every day more so ; she 



of Madame Roland 251 

grew fond of solitude, and would frequently 
send me to walk with a favorite servant, un- 
willing herself to quit her apartment. She often 
talked of my settling in life, and lamented that I 
had not been able to choose a husband. One 
day in particular, she urged me, with a melan- 
choly earnestness, to accept a young jeweller 
who had made proposals in form. " He has in 
his favor," said she, " a great reputation for 
integrity, regular habits, and an easy fortune, 
which may become a brilliant one; and this 
last circumstance counts for much in a case 
where the man himself, it must be owned, is 
somewhat commonplace. He is acquainted 
with your singular way of thinking, professes 
high esteem for you, will be proud to follow 
your counsels, and has declared that he has 
no objection to his wife becoming the nurse 
of his children. You will have him in leading- 
strings." 

" But I do not like a husband that must be 
led, he would be too unwieldy a child." 

" You are certainly a singular girl ! You will 
not rule, yet you will not have a master." 

" Let us understand each other, dear mamma. 
I would not at all wish a man to dictate to me, 



252 Private Memoirs 

for he would only provoke me to resist; nor 
should I wish to dictate to my husband. Either 
I am very much mistaken, or these lords of 
creation six feet high with beards on their 
chins seldom fail to feel that they are the 
stronger sex ; now the good man who should 
think proper to keep me in mind of this supe- 
riority would certainly provoke me ; and I 
should blush for him, on the contrary, if he 
allowed me to rule." 

" I understand. You prefer a man who, while 
obeying you, should fancy he was having his 
own way." 

" No, not that exactly. I dislike to submit, 
but I do not find myself made to rule ; it would 
be a burden to me ; my reason finds enough 
to do in governing myself. I would gain the 
affections of an individual worthy my esteem; 
one, with whose will a compliance would be 
no disgrace to me, and who would not find 
his happiness lessened by complying with 
mine, as far at least as reason and affection 
might authorize." 

" Happiness, my child, is not so often com- 
posed of this perfection of relations and con- 
geniality as you may imagine: if it depended 



of Madame Roland 253 

upon nothing else, there would little of it be 
found in most of our matches." 

" Then I know of none that I should envy." 

" Perhaps so ; still, among these marriages 
that you despise, there may be many preferable 
to remaining single. I may be called out of the 
world sooner than you imagine ; you would re- 
main with your father; he is still young, and 
you know not the chagrins to which my ten- 
derness leads me to fear you may be exposed. 
Could I see you united, before I die, to a worthy 
man, how tranquil would it render the last mo- 
ments of my existence ! " 

These words of my mother overwhelmed me 
with grief; she seemed to lift a veil from a 
sombre and terrifying future which I had not 
so much as suspected. I had never thought of 
losing her ; and the mere idea of this calamity, 
which she spoke of as approaching, filled me 
with terror; a cold shivering crept over the 
whole surface of my frame ; I fixed on her my 
wild and eager eyes, from which a faint smile 
on her part drew forth a torrent of tears. 

" Why, my dear child, are you so alarmed ? 
Must we not in our calculations weigh possi- 
bilities? I am not ill, though at a period of 



2 54 Private Memoirs 

life subject to swift and fatal changes; but it 
is in health that we must provide ourselves with 
consolations for the time of sickness, and the 
present occasion furnishes me with an oppor- 
tunity of doing so. A worthy man offers you 
his hand ; you are past twenty, and must no 
longer expect the crowd of suitors by which, 
during the last five years, you have been sur- 
rounded. I may be snatched away from you. 
Do not reject a husband — who has not, it is 
true, the delicacy to which you affix such value 
(a quality very rare even among those who pre- 
tend to it), but who will love and cherish you 
and with whom you may be happy." 

"Yes, my dear mamma," I exclaimed with a 
deep sigh, " as happy as you have been ! " 

My mother was agitated, and made no reply, 
and never from that moment importuned me 
upon the subject of this or any other marriage. 
The word had escaped me, like the expression 
of a strong and sudden feeling upon which we 
have not taken time to reflect, and the effect it 
produced convinced me too fully of its truth. 

A stranger might have perceived at the first 
glance the disparity that existed between my 
father and mother ; but who could feel like me 



of Madame Roland 255 

all the excellence of the latter? Meanwhile, 
I had little calculated what she might suffer. 
Accustomed from my infancy to see the pro- 
foundest peace reign in the house, I was not a 
judge of what it cost her to maintain it. My 
father loved us both tenderly. A look of re- 
proach I will not say, but an air of discontent 
had never clouded the face of my mother: 
whenever her opinion was not that of her hus- 
band, and she had been unable to convince 
him, she appeared to relinquish her own view 
without the smallest scruple. It was only 
within a few years, that, provoked at times by 
the arguments of my father, I had occasionally 
mingled in their disputes. Gaining, however, 
some degree of influence, I soon began to use 
it with freedom. Whether it was from novelty 
or from weakness, my father yielded to me 
more readily than to his wife ; and I always 
exerted myself as her champion. I became, 
so to speak, the watch-dog of my mother. I 
would not suffer her to be vexed in my pres- 
ence, and was sure upon these occasions, either 
by assumed or real anger, always to make the 
assailant let go his hold. What is still more 
extraordinary is, that, reserved as my mother 



256 



Private Memoirs 



herself upon this subject, not a word escaped 
me in private inconsistent with the respect due 
to the paternal character. I used in her de- 
fence the force and authority of reason, when 
address was insufficient; but afterwards, when 
alone with her, my hps were sealed as to what 
had passed. For her sake I could combat even 
against her husband ; but this husband, when 
absent, became my father, of whom neither of 
us ever spoke but in commendation. Mean- 
while I perceived that my father had gradually 
lost his habits of industry. The affairs of his 
parish having first diverted him, obliged him 
afterwards to be still more frequently from 
home. Insensibly dissipation mastered him ; 
every spectacle or event drew him from his 
business ; he acquired a taste for play ; the 
connections formed at the tavern led him else- 
where, and the lottery lent the aid of its se- 
ductions. In haste to amass a fortune, he had 
engaged in outside speculations, which had 
not always been prosperous. This desire hav- 
ing at length little else to feed upon, degen- 
erated into a rage for gaming. Ceasing to 
exercise his graver with the same attention as 
before, his skill diminished ; observing a less 



of Madame Roland 257 

regular life, his faculties were impaired, his eye 
and hand lost their steadiness and certainty. 
His young workmen, neglected by the master, 
slackened in their industry and failed in their 
execution; it was soon necessary to decrease 
their number, his reputation and custom of 
course diminishing. These changes were grad- 
ual, and their effect was considerable before 
it was fully perceived. My mother, extremely 
thoughtful, began to hint to me her uneasiness, 
which I was cautious not to nourish by dwell- 
ing on what we could neither of us hope to 
remedy. I did what I could to console her; 
she was grown averse to walking, and I sub- 
mitted to the sacrifice of leaving her sometimes 
for the sake of going out with my father, whom 
I requested to take a walk with me, hoping 
thereby to divert him from less innocent pur- 
suits. He no longer sought my company, but 
he was still pleased to attend me, and I led him 
back with a sort of triumph to that excellent 
mother, of whose tender heart I saw all the glad 
emotions at our reunion. But this little strata- 
gem was not always successful ; in order not to 
refuse his daughter, nor at the same time be 
disappointed of his own pleasures, when my 
17 



258 Private Memoirs 

father had brought me home, he would go out 
again, only, as he said, for an instant; but in- 
stead of returning to supper, he forgot the 
hour, and stayed till midnight. We had wept 
his absence in silence; and if I happened, at 
his return to tell him of our anxiety, he treated 
it lightly, parrying my gentle reproaches with 
raillery, or else retired with an air of discon- 
tent. Our domestic happiness was obscured 
and darkened by these clouds, but the harmony 
and quiet of the family remained unaltered, and 
the eyes of a stranger would scarcely have per- 
ceived the changes that were daily taking place. 
My mother had suffered considerably for the 
space of more than a year from a malady of 
which her physicians had been totally unable to 
ascertain the cause. After employing to no 
purpose a variety of remedies, they at length 
advised exercise, for which she had no inclina- 
tion, and the air of the country. This was upon 
the eve of Whitsuntide, 1773, and it was deter- 
mined that we should pass our holidays at 
Meudon. On Sunday morning I did not wake 
in my customary spirits when these excursions 
into the country were in view. I had rested 
poorly, for my slumbers had been haunted by 



of Madame Roland 259 

the gloomiest dreams : we were returning (as it 
had seemed to me) to Paris by water, having 
been driven back by a storm, when, as we were 
stepping to the shore, a corpse that had been 
carried from the boat, blocked our path. 
Chilled with terror at the sight, I was about 
fearfully to examine the ghastly object — when 
my mother, lightly laying her hand upon my 
bed and calling me with her soft voice, put an 
end to my dream. I was rejoiced to see her, as 
if she had escaped some imminent danger; I 
stretched out my arms, and embraced her with 
emotion, expressing the pleasure she gave me 
by awaking me. I sprang out of bed, every- 
thing was soon ready, and we set off. The 
weather was fine, the air calm, a little boat con- 
veyed us to the place of our destination, and 
the delights of the country speedily restored 
my serenity. My mother was better for the 
journey; she resumed a portion of her activity; 
for the second time we discovered ViUe-Bonne, 
and its honest inmates. I had promised to visit 
my Agathe on the Wednesday of the holidays ; 
we accordingly returned on the evening of 
Tuesday. My mother had meant to accom- 
pany me ; but, fatigued with the exertion of 
15 



2 6o Private Memoirs 

the preceding days, she changed her mind at the 
moment of my departure, and sent me with 
the servant. I would willingly have remained 
with her ; but she insisted on my keeping my 
engagement, adding that it was no punishment 
to her to be alone, and that if I wished to take 
a turn in the public gardens, I might indulge 
myself. 

Scarcely had I seen Agathe, when I was anx- 
ious to return. " Why are you in such haste," 
said she ; " does any one expect you? " 

" No ; but something urges me to return to 
my mother." 

" You have told me that you left her well? " 

" That is true, nor does she expect me ; I 
know not what it is that torments me, but I am 
anxious to be with her." 

As I spoke, my heart swelled painfully, in 
spite of my efforts to control it. 

Some persons will perhaps suppose that all 
these circumstances are the result of a mood 
that sheds its own hues upon the present and 
upon the immediate past. This, however, I am 
assured, is not the case. I am a faithful his- 
torian, and relate facts which, had it not been 
for the event, I should doubtless have forgotten. 



of Madame Roland 261 

Certainly it may be judged, from what has 
already been said of my opinions, and espe- 
cially of the successive stages of my intellectual 
growth, that I was as little superstitious at that 
time as I am now credulous and orthodox. 
While I meditated in the sequel upon what could 
be the cause of what people call presentiments, 
I have imagined that it consists in that rapid 
survey which persons of a lively intelligence 
and strong feeling make of a crowd of evanes- 
cent circumstances, impossible to enumerate, 
which are rather felt than recognized, which 
give a tinge to the mind that the reason cannot 
justify, but that events ultimately appear to 
confirm. 

The more lively the interest that we take in 
an object and the greater the concern we feel 
in everything that relates to it, the more we 
shall have of those physical perceptions, if I 
may be allowed the expression, which are 
afterwards styled presentiments, and which the 
ancients regarded as omens or suggestions from 
the gods. 

My mother was an object to me of the ten- 
derest regard : she approached her end without 
its being announced to common observers by 



262 Private Memoirs 

any exterior circumstances, and I had myself 
seen nothing that positively menaced it; yet I 
was doubtless sensible to slight and indistinct 
changes that affected me as it were uncon- 
sciously. I could not have said I was unhappy, 
because I could have assigned no reason ; but 
I felt a haunting anxiety, my heart sank when I 
looked at her, and in her absence I experienced 
an uneasiness, that would not suffer me to 
continue out of her sight. I quitted Agathe 
with so unusual an air, that she begged me to 
let her hear from me immediately. I returned 
precipitately, without attending to the remark 
of my nurse that the weather was extremely 
favorable for a walk in the gardens. I ap- 
proach the house, and find at our door a young 
girl of the neighborhood, who on seeing me 
exclaims : — " Ah ! mademoiselle, your mamma 
is taken ill; she has just sent to my mother, 
who is now with her in her chamber." Struck 
with affright, I utter some inarticulate sounds; 
I rush upstairs, and find my mother sunk in an 
armchair, her head reclined, her eyes wild, her 
mouth open, her arms pendent. At sight of 
me her countenance lights up ; she attempts to 
speak; but her tongue utters painfully only a 



of Madame Roland 263 

few broken words : she wished to say how im- 
patiently she had expected me. She attempts 
to raise her arms ; one only obeys the impulse 
of her will. She hfts her hand to my face, wipes 
away the tears that bedew it with her fingers, 
passes them gently over my cheeks as if to 
compose me. The wish to smile faintly appears 
in her languid features ; she again endeavors to 
speak. Vain efforts ! The palsy chains her 
tongue, weighs down her head, and deadens 
half her bod}^. Spirits of balm, salt put into 
the mouth, and friction, produce no effect. In 
an instant I had despatched messengers after 
my father, and the physician ; I had flown my- 
self for two grains of emetic to the nearest 
apothecary's. The physician arrives, my mother 
is put to bed ; the remedies are administered, 
and the disorder proceeds with a dreadful 
rapidity. The eyes are closed ; the head, sunk 
on the chest, can no longer raise itself; a strong 
and quick respiration indicates the universal 
oppression. Yet she heard what was said, and, 
when asked if she felt much pain, pointed out 
the seat of her sufferings by pressing her left 
hand upon her forehead. I was inexpressibly 
active ; I ordered everything, and had always 



264 Private Memoirs 

done it myself before any other person could 
execute it; I prepared whatever was necessary, 
yet appeared never to quit the bed. About 
ten o'clock in the evening I observe the physi- 
cian call aside my father and some women who 
are in the apartment ; I wish to know what he 
has proposed ; they inform me that he recom- 
mends the administration of the extreme unc- 
tion. I seem in a dream ; the priest arrives ; he 
prays, and does I know not what. I hold a light 
mechanically; I stand at the foot of the bed 
without answering or yielding to those who 
would remove me, my eyes fixed on my adored 
and dying mother, absorbed in a single feeling 
which suspends all my faculties. The light slips 
from my hand, and I fall senseless on the floor. 
They raise me : after some time I recover my 
consciousness, and find myself in ' the room 
adjoining the death-chamber, surrounded by 
the members of the family. I look toward the 
door, I attempt to advance ; they restrain me ; I 
make suppliant gestures to obtain permission to 
return. A mournful silence, and a dumb but 
constant opposition, is the only reply. I regain 
my strength; I pray, I conjure them, to let me 
pass ; they are inexorable : I burst into a rage. 



of Madame Roland 265 

At that instant my father enters, pale and 
speechless ; an air of fearful inquiry appears 
in every countenance, to which he replies by a 
silent movement of his eyes, that calls forth a 
general groan. I escape from the petrified 
hands of those about me ; I rush impetuously 
forth. My mother ! — she was no more ! I 
hft up her arms ; I cannot beheve it. I open 
and close alternately the eyes that will never 
see me again, and that were wont to look upon 
me with so endearing a tenderness ; I call her ; 
I throw myself with passion on her loved form ; 
I join my lips to hers, and try to reanimate 
them with my breath; I would transfuse into 
them my soul, and expire on the instant. I 
know not what ensued ; I only remember that 
I found myself in the morning at the house of 
a neighbor, with M. Besnard, who then conveyed 
me in a carriage to his own house. I arrive ; my 
aunt embraces me in silence, sets me before a 
small table, and offers me something to drink, 
entreating me earnestly to take it. I endeavor 
to comply, and fall into a swoon. They put me 
fa bed, where I pass a fortnight between life and 
death in frightful convulsions. The sensation, 
I remember, was that of constant suffocation; 



2 66 Private Memoirs 

my respiration, as I have been told, was heard 
even from the street. I suffered a relapse, which 
rendered my situation still more critical, and 
from which I was saved only by the strength of 
my constitution and the attentions that were 
lavished on me. My good relatives had taken 
up with inconvenient lodgings for my better 
accommodation ; they seemed to have gained 
new strength in order to recall me to life ; they 
insisted upon nursing me themselves, and would 
allow no one to share their kind offices, except 
my cousin, Madame Trude, n^e Robineau, a 
young woman, who came every evening to spend 
the night with me, lying in the same bed, and 
ever vigilant to foresee and relieve the parox- 
ysms with which I was continually seized. 

Eight days were elapsed, and my grief had 
been unaccompanied with a tear : great sorrows 
have not so easy an issue. (I shed them, how- 
ever, at this moment, bitter and burning; for 
I fear an evil still greater than what I then 
suffered. I have expended all my wishes for 
the safety of those I love ; it is now more un- 
certain than ever ! Calamities, like a dark and 
threatening cloud, envelop what is most dear 
to me; and I labor, with difficulty and pain. 



of Madame Roland 267 

to distract my attention from the present by 
reflecting on the past.) 

An epistle from Sophie came to reopen the 
source of my tears; the tender voice and 
soothing expressions of friendship recalled my 
faculties, and spoke consolation to my heart. 
They produced an effect that medicines and 
physicians had solicited in vain : a new revo- 
lution took place ; I wept, and was saved. The 
suflbcation diminished ; the dangerous symptoms 
abated, and the convulsions became less fre- 
quent; yet every painful impression renewed 
them. 

My father presented himself to me in the 
sad apparel that testified our loss, which, though 
common to us both, I found was unequally 
felt and deplored. He endeavored to console 
me by representing that Providence disposed 
everything for the best, even in our calamities ; 
that my mother had fulfilled the task assigned 
her in this world, in the education of her child ; 
and that, since heaven had decreed I was to 
lose one of my parents, it was better that the 
one should remain who could be most useful 
to my fortune. 

Assuredly my loss was irreparable, even in 



2 68 Private Memoirs 

this respect, as experience has but too well 
proved; but I did not then make this reflec- 
tion ; I felt only the barrenness of the intended 
consolation, so little adapted to my manner of 
thinking and feeling. I measured for the first 
time the gulf between my father and me ; he 
seemed himself to tear away the reverential veil 
under which I had hitherto considered him. I 
found myself a complete orphan, since my 
mother was gone, and my father could never 
understand me: a new source of grief burst 
upon my already overburdened heart; I fell 
into the deepest despair. The tears, however, 
of my cousin, and the sorrow of my worthy 
relatives, still offered me subjects of tender 
emotion. Their influence prevailed, and I was 
snatched from the dangers that menaced my 
days. Alas, why did they not then terminate? 
It was my first affliction : by how many others 
has it been succeeded ! 

Here concludes the serene and shining epoch 
of those tranquil years, passed in the enjoy- 
ment of delightful sentiments and peaceful 
studies, and resembling the lovely mornings of 
spring, when the serenity of an unclouded sky, 
the purity of the air, the verdure of the foliage, 



of Madame Roland 269 

and the perfume of the plants, enchant all 
who taste the mingled delights, unfold the 
heart and fancy, and impart present felicity by 
their promises of a riper and rnore blissful 
season. 



270 Private Memoirs 



HI. 



September 10, 1793. 

MY mother was only fifty years of age 
when she was so cruelly taken from 
me; an abscess in her head, formed in an 
unaccountable manner, and, only discovered by 
the flux that took place after her death through 
the nose and ears, explains the unusual stop- 
page with which she had been so long affected. 
The second shock of the palsy, in all probability, 
would not have proved mortal but for this affec- 
tion. Her face, still fresh and youthful, showed 
no sign of approaching death ; and her ailments 
appeared to be those of an age which women 
rarely pass without experiencing a considerable 
alteration. The melancholy, and even despond- 
ency, which I had discovered some time before, 
were due to moral causes but too apparent to 
me. 

Our last excursions into the country seemed 
to have reanimated her : the very day she was 



of Madame Roland 271 

snatched from me I left her apparently well at 
three o'clock in the afternoon; I returned at 
half-past five to find her palsied ; at midnight 
she was no more. Frail toys of a pitiless 
destiny ! Why are sentiments so keen and pro- 
jects so imposing linked with so fragile an 
existence? 

Thus was taken from the world one of the 
gentlest, most lovable beings that ever graced 
it. Her qualities were not brilliant, but they 
were such as won and retained the love of all 
who knew her. Naturally pure and just, her vir- 
tues were the fruit of impulse, not effort. Pru- 
dent and self-poised, tender without passion, her 
tranquil spirit lived its days as flows some quiet 
stream that laves with equal complaisance the 
rock that holds it captive and the valley it em- 
bellishes. Her sudden loss plunged me in the 
profoundest grief. 

" It is charming to possess sensibility, but 
it is unfortunate to have so much of it," said 
the Abbe Legrand, who came to see me at 
the house of my relatives. When I began 
to recover, the latter were eager to invite or to 
receive people with whom I was acquainted, in 
order to familiarize me gradually with the Hfe 



272 Private Memoirs 

outside. I seemed scarcely to exist in the 
actual world. Absorbed in grief, I paid little 
attention to what was passing, speaking but 
seldom, and then mostly in reply to my own 
thoughts. At times the cherished image of 
her I could not forget, the poignant sense of 
her loss, would arise so vividly in my mind that 
I would shriek aloud, my outstretched arms 
would grow rigid, and I would fall fainting to 
the floor. Although incapable of application, 
I had however calmer intervals, during which I 
recollected the sorrow of my relations, their 
kindness, and the affectionate care of my cousin, 
and endeavored to diminish their anxiety. The 
Abbe Legrand possessed sagacity enough to 
discern that it was necessary to talk to me a 
great deal of my mother, in order to render me 
capable of thinking of anything else. He con- 
versed with me about her, and led me insensibly 
to reflections and ideas which, without being 
foreign to the subject, banished the habitual 
recollection of her loss. As soon as he believed 
me sufficiently recovered to look at a book, he 
resolved to bring me the " Heloise " of Jean- 
Jacques Rousseau ; the perusal of which was in 
truth my first employment. I was then twenty- 




FKO>I THE PAI^TINO BY HEINSIUS 



of Madame Roland 273 

one years of age ; I had read a great deal ; I 
was acquainted with a considerable number of 
writers, historians, learned men, and philoso- 
phers ; but Rousseau made an impression on 
me similar to that which Plutarch had done 
when I was eight years old. It appeared that 
this was the proper food for my mind, and the 
interpreter of those ideas which I entertained 
before, but which he alone knew how to explain 
to me. 

Plutarch had prepared me to become a repub- 
lican ; he roused that strength and stateliness of 
character which constitute one ; he inspired me 
with a real enthusiasm in favor of public virtues 
and liberty. Rousseau pointed out to me the 
domestic happiness- to which I could aspire, and 
the ineffable enjoyments which I was capable of 
tasting. Ah ! if he is able to protect me against 
what are termed foibles, could he forearm me 
against a passion? Amidst the corrupt age in 
which I was doomed to live and the Revolution 
which I was then far from anticipating, I ac- 
quired beforehand all that could render me 
capable of great sacrifices and expose me to 
great misfortunes. Death will only be to me 
the term of both. I expect it, and I would not 
18 



2 74- Private Memoirs 

have dreamed of filling the short interval which 
separates us with the recital of my private his- 
tory, if calumny had not dragged me on the 
stage, on purpose to make a more cruel attack 
upon those whom she would ruin. I love to 
publish truths that interest not myself alone ; 
and I wish not to conceal one, that their coher- 
ence may serve toward their demonstration. 

I did not return to my father's without ex- 
periencing all the sensations inspired by the 
sight of those places which one has been accus- 
tomed to associate with an object that is no 
more. They had taken the ill-judged precaution 
to remove my mother's portrait, as if the void 
thus produced was not calculated to recall more 
painfully than even her picture the loss I had 
experienced. I instantly demanded it : it was 
restored. The domestic cares devolving entirely 
on me, I occupied myself with them ; but they 
were not numerous in a family of only three. 

I have never been able to comprehend how 
such cares could absorb the attention of a woman 
who possesses method and activity, however con- 
siderable her household may be, for in that case 
there are a greater number of assistants to share 
her labors ; nothing more is necessary than a 



of Madame Roland 275 

right distribution of employments, and a little 
vigilance. This I discovered in a variety of 
different situations, during all which nothing 
was ever done but in consequence of my orders ; 
and when these cares were most pressing they 
scarcely ever consumed more than two hours a 
day. Leisure will always be found when one 
knows how to employ her time : it is the people 
who do nothing that want time for everything. 
Besides, it is not in the least surprising that the 
women who pay or receive useless visits, or who 
think themselves badly dressed if they have not 
consecrated many hours to their glass, find the 
days long from mere lassitude, and yet too short 
for the performance of their duties ; but I have 
seen what are termed notable housewives who 
were insupportable to the world, and even to 
their husbands, on account of a fatiguing pre- 
occupation about their household affairs, I 
do not know anything so disgusting as this 
ridiculous conduct, nor so well calculated to 
render a man attached to any other woman 
rather than his wife. She ought to appear to 
him to be a good housewife, but not to such a 
degree as to force him to search elsewhere for 
charms. I think that a wife should either keep, 



276 



Private Memoirs 



or cause to be kept, the linen and clothes in 
order, nurse her children, give instructions about 
or even superintend the cookery, without speak- 
ing of it ; and all this with a command of tem- 
per, a proper disposal of those moments which 
allow her an opportunity of conversing about 
other matters, and in such a manner as to 
please, in short, by her good humor as well as 
by the charms of her sex. I have had occa- 
sion to remark that it is nearly the same in the 
government of states as of families. Those 
famous statesmen who are always quoting their 
labors either leave much in arrear or render 
themselves offensive to every one around them : 
those public men that vaunt so much of, and 
appear so deeply involved in business, only 
make a noise about their difficulties because of 
their incapacity to overcome them, or their 
ignorance in the art of government. 

My studies became dearer to me than before ; 
they formed my consolation. Left still more 
than ever by myself, and not seldom melancholy, 
I felt myself under the necessity of writing. I 
love to render an account of my own ideas to 
myself, and the intervention of my pen makes 
them clearer. When I do not employ myself in 



of Madame Roland 277 

this way, I revise still more than I meditate : by 
these means I curb my imagination, and accus- 
tom myself to reasoning. I had already begun 
to make some collections ; to these I made some 
additions, and entitled the whole " The Works 
of Leisure Hours, and various Reflections." I 
had no other object than by these means to fix 
my opinions and to possess a register of my 
sentiments, which I could some day compare 
with each other, in such a manner that their 
gradations or their changes might serve to my- 
self at once as a lesson and a record. I have a 
pretty large packet of the " Works " of a young 
girl piled up in a dusty corner of my library, or 
in the garret. Never did I feel the slightest 
temptation to become one day an author; I 
perceived very early that a woman who acquires 
this title loses far more than she has gained. 
The men do not love, and her own sex criticise 
her. If her works are bad, they ridicule her; 
and they are right: if they are good, they 
ascribe them to some one else; if they are 
forced to acknowledge that she has discovered 
merit, they sift so maliciously her character, 
her morals, her conduct, and her talents, that 
they balance the reputation of her genius 



278 Private Memoirs 

by the publicity which they give to her 
errors. 

Besides, my happiness was my chief concern ; 
and I perceived that the ' pubh'c never inter- 
meddled with the happiness of any one without 
marring it. I do not find anything so agreeable 
as to have our real value appreciated by the 
people with whom we live ; and nothing so 
empty as the admiration of a few persons whom 
we are never likely to meet. 

Alas ! what an injury did those do me who 
took it upon them to withdraw the veil under 
which I loved to remain concealed ! During 
twelve years of my life I have shared my hus- 
band's tasks, as I shared his meals, quite natu- 
rally and as a matter of course. If one part 
of his works happened to be quoted in which 
were discovered unwonted graces of style, or if 
a flattering reception was given to an academic 
trifle he was pleased to transmit to the learned 
societies of which he was a member, I partici- 
pated in his satisfaction, without remarking the 
more particularly on that account, whether it 
was I who had composed it; and he often 
ended by persuading himself that he had been 
in a better vein than usual when he wrote 



of Madame Roland 279 

such and such a passage. During his adminis- 
tration, if it was necessary to express great or 
striking truths, I employed the whole bent of 
my mind ; and it was but natural that its efforts 
should be preferable to those of a secretary. I 
loved my country; I was an enthusiast in the 
cause of liberty; I was unacquainted with any 
interest or any passions that could enter into 
competition with these; and my language ought 
to be pure and pathetic, as it was that of the 
heart and of truth. 

I was so much impressed with the import- 
ance of the subject that I never thought of 
myself. Once only I was amused with the 
singularity of the relative situations. This was 
when employed in writing to the pope in be- 
half of the French artists imprisoned at Rome. 
A letter to the pope, in the name of the Execu- 
tive Council of France, sketched secretly by the 
hand of a woman, in the plain cabinet, which 
Marat was pleased to term a " boudoir," ap- 
peared to me such a bit of humor that I 
laughed heartily when I had finished it. 

The pleasure of these contrasts consisted in 
the very secrecy ; but this was necessarily less 
attainable in a public situation, where the eye 



2 8o Private Memoirs 

of the clerk distinguishes the papers which he 
copies. There is nothing singular, however, in 
all this, unless it be its novelty. Why should 
not a woman act as secretary to her husband, 
without lessening his merit? It is well known 
that ministers cannot do everything themselves ; 
and surely, if the wives of our rulers under the 
old (or even the new) regime had been capable 
of making draughts of letters, official despatches, 
or proclamations, it would have been better to 
employ their time in this manner than in solicit- 
ing and intriguing for all sorts of people: the 
one excludes the other by the very nature of 
things. 

If those who knew me had judged properly 
in respect to facts, they would have prevented 
me from suffering a sort of celebrity which I 
never envied ; instead of now spending my time 
in refuting falsehood, I should be reading a 
chapter of Montaigne, painting" a flower, or play- 
ing an ariette, and thus beguihng the solitude 
of my prison, without sitting down to write my 
confession. 

But I now anticipate a period which I had 
not as yet attained. I make my remarks equally 
without constraint, and without scruple ; since 



of Madame Roland 281 

it is myself that is to be described, it is neces- 
sary that I should be seen with all my irregu- 
larities. I do not lead my pen, it carries me 
along with it wherever it pleases, and I give it 
the rein. 

My father honestly endeavored for some time 
after he became a widower, to remain more at 
home than hitherto ; but he became weary of this, 
and when the love of his profession did not get 
the better of his failing, all my efforts could not 
cure it. I wished to converse with him, but we 
had few ideas in common ; and he then prob- 
ably hankered after a mode of Hfe which he 
did not wish that I should be acquainted with. 
I often sat down to piquet with him. It was not 
perhaps very amusing for him to play with his 
own daughter; besides he was not ignorant 
that I detested cards, and however desirous I 
might be to persuade him that I took pleasure 
ir them, and however honestly I tried for his 
sake to do so, he entertained no doubt that it 
was all mere complaisance on my part. 

I could have wished to render his house agree- 
able to him, but the means were not in my 
power, as I had no other acquaintance than my 
old relations whom I visited, and who never put 



282 Private Memoirs 

themselves out of their usual way. He might 
have formed a little society at home, but he had 
become accustomed to one of another sort else- 
where, and he well knew that it would not have 
been proper to introduce me there. Was my 
mother really in the wrong to live a life so 
secluded, and not to make her house gay enough 
to be attractive to her husband? This would 
be blaming her too readily; but it would also 
be unjust to consider my father as entirely to 
blame for his failings. There is such a connec- 
tion between the evils which flow necessarily 
from a first cause, that it is proper always to 
ascend to the source for an explanation. 

Our legislators of the present day aim to 
attain a general good, whence is to spring the 
happiness of individuals ; I am much afraid this 
is like putting the cart before the horse. It 
would be more conformable with nature, and 
perhaps with reason, to study well what con- 
stitutes domestic happiness, to insure it to in- 
dividuals in such a manner that the common 
felicity shall be composed of that of each citi- 
zen, and that all shall be interested in conserv- 
ing the order of things which has procured 
them this. However charming; the written 



of Madame Roland 283 

principles of a constitution may be, if I behold 
a portion of those who have adopted it in grief 
and tears, I must believe it to be no other than 
a political monster ; if those who do not weep 
rejoice in the sufferings of the rest, I shall say- 
that it is atrocious, and that its authors are 
either weak or wicked men. 

In a marriage where the parties are ill mated, 
the virtue of one of them may maintain order 
and peace, but the want of happiness will be 
experienced sooner or later, and produce in- 
conveniencies more or less hurtful. The scaf- 
folding of these unions resembles the system 
of our politicians ; the bases are rotten, and 
the whole will some day give way, in spite of 
the art employed in its construction. 

My mother could not collect around her any 
others than such as resembled herself, and 
these would not have suited my father ; on the 
other hand, those whom he would have liked 
to have constantly about him would not only 
have been disagreeable to my mother, but 
incompatible with the manner in which she 
wished to educate me. She therefore neces- 
sarily confined herself to her own family, and 
cultivated only those superficial connections 



284 Private Memoirs 

which produce an acquaintance without creat- 
ing an intimacy. 

Everything went well while my father, with 
a good business and a young wife, found in 
his own home all the employment and pleasure 
which he could desire. But he was a year 
younger than my mother; she began early in 
life to experience infirmities ; some circum- 
stances slackened his ardor for labor; the 
desire of getting rich made him embark in a 
few hazardous enterprises : thenceforward all 
was lost. The love of labor forms the virtue 
of man in a state of society; it is essentially 
that of the individual who does not possess a 
cultivated mind. The moment that this desire 
languishes, danger is at hand ; if it be extin- 
guished, he becomes a prey to the passions, 
which are always more fatal when there is less 
employment, because then there is also less 
restraint. 

Become a widower at the very moment when 
he stood in need of new ties to confine him at 
home, my poor father kept a mistress, that he 
might not present his daughter with a step- 
mother; he had recourse to play, to indemnify 
himself for his loss of employment; and, with- 



of Madame Roland 285 

out ceasing to be an honest man, sank gradually 
and insensibly to ruin. 

My relations, worthy and unsuspicious people, 
confiding in rrty father's attachment to me, had 
not demanded an inventory of the estate after 
the death of his wife; my interests appeared 
to be safely confided to his guardianship ; they 
would have imagined that they had wronged 
him had they done otherwise. I was placed 
in a situation that enabled me to surmise the 
contrary; but as I would have deemed it in- 
decent to reveal what I knew on this subject, 
I remained silent and resigned. Behold me 
then alone in the house, my time divided be- 
tween my housework and my studies, which I 
sometimes abandoned in order to answer people 
who were vexed at not finding my father at 
home. Two apprentices, one of whom lived 
in the house, were now sufficient for the work 
of the shop. 

My servant was a little woman of fifty-five, 
thin, alert, sprightly, and gay, who loved me 
exceedingly because I made life pleasant for 
her. She always attended me when I went 
out without my father, but my walks never ex- 
tended beyond the house of my grandparents 



286 Private Memoirs 

and the church. I had not again grown de- 
vout; but what I no longer practised out of 
regard to the scruples of my mother, I con- 
tinued from a sense of duty to the good order 
of society and the edification of my neighbor. 
In obedience to this principle, I carried with 
me to church, if not the ardent piety of former 
years, at least enough of decorum and a spirit 
of meditation. I no longer accompanied the 
ordinary of the mass ; I read some Christian 
work. For Saint Augustine I have always had 
much liking — and assuredly there are fathers 
of the church whom one may peruse without 
being devout, for there is food enough in them 
both for the heart and the mind. 

I wished to go through a course of reading 
of the preachers, the living as well as the 
dead. The eloquence of the pulpit is of a sort 
to enable the gift of oratory to unfold itself 
with splendor. I had already read Bossuet 
and Flechier; I was glad to review them now 
with a maturer eye, and I became familiar with 
Bourdaloue and Massillon ; nothing could be 
more diverting than to see their names entered 
in my little memorandum book with those of 
De Pauw, Raynal, and the author of " The Sys- 



of Madame Roland 287 

tern of Nature ; " but what is still more so, is, 
that in consequence of reading sermons, I was 
seized with the desire of composing one. I was 
vexed that the preachers always recurred to 
mysteries; it seemed to me that they ought 
to have drawn up moral discourses, in which 
the devil and the incarnation were never men- 
tioned. I accordingly seized my pen, to try 
my own hand at the business, and wrote a ser- 
mon on the love of one's neighbor. I amused 
my little uncle with it ; he was become a canon 
of Vincennes, and said it was wrong in me not 
to have undertaken this sooner and at a time 
when he himself was obliged to compose dis- 
courses, as in that case he would have preached 
mine. 

I had often heard the logic of Bourdaloue 
much vaunted ; I dared in some measure to differ 
from his admirers, and actually drew up a crit- 
icism on one of his most esteemed discourses ; 
but I never showed it to any one. I love to 
render an account to myself of my own opin- 
ions, but I do not choose to submit them to 
the eye of another. Massillon, less lofty than 
Bourdaloue, and far more affecting, won my 
esteem. I was not then acquainted with the 



288 Private Memoirs 

Protestant orators, among whom Blair, more 
especially, has cultivated with equal simplicity 
and elegance that species of composition, whose 
existence I readily conceived, and which I 
could have wished to see adopted. 

Among the preachers of that day, I have 
heard the Abbe I'Enfant, toward the close of 
his brilliant career; polish and reason appeared 
to me to characterize him. Father l^lis6e was 
already out of fashion, notwithstanding his close 
reasoning and chaste diction : his mind was too 
metaphysical and his delivery too simple to 
please the vulgar. 

Paris was a singular place in those times ; 
this rendezvous of all the impurities of the 
kingdom, was also the focus of taste and 
knowledge : preacher or comedian, professor 
or mountebank, in short whoever possessed 
abilities, was followed in his turn ; but the first 
mind in the world would not have long fixed 
the public attention, for which novelty was 
always necessary, and this was effected by noise 
as well as by merit. 

A certain person leaving the famous order 
of the Jesuits, becoming a missionary, and 
pretending to exhibit himself at court, was 



of Madame Roland 289 

enabled by that means to attract notice and 
procure a number of followers. I also went 
to hear this Abbe de Beauregard ; he was a 
little man, with a powerful voice, and declaimed 
with wonderful impudence and extraordinary 
violence. He retailed commonplaces with the 
air of inspiration, and he supported these by 
such terrible gesticulations, that he persuaded a 
great number of people they were very fine. 
I did not then know so well as now that men 
assembled together in great numbers possess 
ears rather than judgment; that to astonish 
is to lead them, and that whoever assumes the 
authority of commanding, disposes them to 
obey. I could not find utterance for my aston- 
ishment at the success of this personage, who 
was either a great fanatic, or a great rogue, and 
perhaps both. 

I had not sufficiently analyzed the accounts 
of the orators of the ancient republics ; else 
I should have been better able to judge respect- 
ing the means of affecting the passions of the 
people. But I shall never forget a vulgar man 
planted directly opposite the pulpit in which 
Beauregard was displaying his antics, with his 
eyes fixed on the orator, his mouth open, and 
19 



290 Private Memoirs 

involuntarily allowing to escape the expression 
of his stupid admiration in the three follow- 
ing words, which I well recollect : " How he 
sweats ! " Behold then the means of imposing 
upon fools ! How much reason had Phocion, 
surprised at finding himself applauded in an 
assembly of the people, to demand of his 
friends whether he had not uttered something 
foolish ! 

This same M. de Beauregard would have 
made a fierce clitbbist ; and how many of the 
members of the popular societies, in their 
enthusiasm over brazen-faced babblers, have 
recalled to my memory the expression made 
use of by the man just spoken of, " How he 
sweats ! " 

My illness had created some talk; it would 
appear that people deemed it either very un- 
common, or very charming, that a young girl 
should be in danger of losing her life through 
mere sorrow at the death of her mother. I 
received many marks of regard on this account, 
which were extremely agreeable to me. M. de 
Boismorel was one of the first who bestowed 
them ; I had not seen him since his visits at 
my grandmother's. I perceived the impression 



of Madame Roland 291 

which the change that had taken place in my 
person since that period, produced upon him. 
He returned during my absence, conversed a 
long time with my father, who doubtless spoke 
to him about my studies, and showed him the 
little apartment in which I passed my time. 
They looked at my books ; my works were 
upon the table ; these excited his curiosity, and 
my father took upon himself to gratify it, by 
showing them to him. 

Great displeasure and complaints ensued on 
my part, when I found on my return that they 
had violated my asylum. My father pretended 
that he would not have complied with the 
wishes of any person less grave and less worthy 
of consideration than M. de Boismorel. His 
reasons did not make me relish his proceedings, 
as it was an offence against liberty and prop- 
erty; it was disposing, without my consent, of 
what I alone possessed the right of conferring; 
but, at all events, the harm was done. Next 
day I received a well-written letter from M. de 
Boismorel, couched in too flattering terms not 
to procure his pardon for having profited by 
the indiscretion of my father, and offering me 
access to his library. I did not read this 



292 Private Memoirs 

proposal with indifference : from that moment 
a correspondence began between us ; I tasted 
for the first time those agreeable sensations 
which sensibility and self-love make us exper- 
ience when we find ourselves esteemed by those 
whose judgment we value. 

M. de Boismorel no longer resided at Paris; 
his partiality for the country, and his wish not 
to remove his mother to too great a distance 
from the capital, had made him purchase the 
" Petit-Bercy" below Charenton, a charming 
house, the garden of which extended to the 
banks of the Seine. He pressed us much 
to take a walk thither, testifying at the same 
time, the greatest eagerness to receive us. I 
recollected the reception given us by his mother 
upon a former occasion, and was not in the least 
tempted to renew that experience ; so I resisted 
the entreaties of my father. He insisted ; and, 
as I would not oppose the little trips which he 
sometimes liked to make with me, we one day 
set out for Bercy. The ladies of the family of 
Boismorel were sitting in the summer salon; 
the presence of the daughter-in-law, whose ami- 
able disposition I had heard much talk of, im- 
mediately put me at my ease. The mother, 



of Madame Roland 293 

whose manner may be recollected, and whom 
years had not rendered more humble, evinced 
however more politeness toward a young per- 
son who had the appearance of respecting her- 
self, than she had formerly shown to a child 
whom she deemed of no consequence. 

" How well your dear daughter looks, Mr. 
Phlipon ! But do you know that my son is 
enchanted with her? Tell me, mademoiselle, 
do you not wish to be married?" 

" Others have already thought for me on that 
subject, madame, but I have not as yet seen 
reason to come to any determination." 

" You are hard to please, I suppose ! Have 
you any repugnance to a man of a certain 
age?" 

" The knowledge I might have of a person 
would alone determine my attachment, my re- 
fusal, or my acceptation." 

" Those kinds of marriages have most solid- 
ity; a young man often escapes through our 
fingers, when one thinks him most attached." 

" And why, mother," said M. de Boismorel, 
who just entered, " should not mademoiselle 
believe herself able to captivate such a person 
entirely?" 



2 94 Private Memoirs 

" She is dressed with taste," observed Madame 
de Boismorel to her daughter-in-law. 

" Ah ! extremely well, and so modestly too," 
replied the young woman, with all that suavity 
which appertains only to devotees, for she be- 
longed to that class ; and the little curls shading 
an agreeable face that had seen thirty-four 
summers, were disposed with due primness. 

" How different," added she, " from that 
ridiculous mass of plumage we see fluttering 
above empty heads ! You do not love feathers, 
mademoiselle?" 

" I never wear them, madame, because, being 
the daughter of an artist, they would seem to 
announce a situation and fortune to which I 
do not pretend." 

" But would you wear them were you in an- 
other situation ? " 

" I do not know ; I attach but little import- 
ance to such trifles ; in regard to myself, I esti- 
mate those matters by convenience alone, and 
I take good care not to judge a person by my 
first impressions of her toilette." 

The observation was severe; but I pro- 
nounced it so mildly that the edge was blunted. 

•* A philosopher ! " exclaims she, with a sigh, 



of Madame Roland 295 

as if she had recollected that I did not belong 
to her sect. 

After a nice examination of my person, sea- 
soned with compliments similar to those I have 
related, M. de Boismorel put an end to the 
inventory by proposing that we should visit his 
garden and library. I admired the situation of 
the first, in which he made me remark a noble 
cedar of Lebanon ; I glanced at the other with 
delight, and I pointed out the works, and even 
collections which I begged him to lend me, 
such as Bayle among others, and the " Memoirs 
of the Academies." 

The ladies invited us to dinner on a day fixed 
by them for that purpose ; we repaired thither 
accordingly, and I soon judged, by the two or 
three men of business who were our fellow- 
guests, that they had suited the company to 
my father, without considering me. But M. de 
Boismorel had recourse as before to his library 
and the garden, where we conversed together. 
He had caused his son to form one of the party ; 
he was a young man of seventeen, ugly enough, 
and more eccentric than amiable. The com- 
pany that arrived in the evening, and which I 
examined with an observing eye, did not appear 



296 



Private Memoirs 



to me to be very attractive, notwithstanding its 
titles ; the daughters of a marquis, some coun- 
sellors, a prior and a few old baronesses, talked 
with more importance, but to the full as in- 
sipidly as nuns, churchwardens, and tradesmen. 
Those points of view in which I consider the 
world, and examine it unperceived by any one, 
disgust me with it, and attach me still more to 
my own manner of living. 

M. de Boismorel did not let slip this opportu- 
nity to form a connection, on which perhaps 
he founded some project; he accordingly so 
ordered matters that the two fathers and the 
two children formed a select party. 

It was in this manner also, that he accom- 
panied me to the public meeting of the French 
Academy, on the succeeding anniversary of St. 
Louis. Those meetings were at that time the 
rendezvous of good company, and they ex- 
hibited all the contrasts which our manners 
and our follies could not fail to produce. On 
the morning of St. Louis's day, they celebrated 
a mass in the chapel of the Academy, at which 
the singers of the Opera assisted, and at the 
conclusion a favorite orator of the beau monde 
delivered a panegyric on the Saint-King. 



of Madame Roland 297 

The Abbe de Besplas was pitched upon for 
this function. I Hstened to him with great 
pleasure, notwithstanding the triviahty and stale- 
ness of his theme; he mingled with his dis- 
course certain bold philosophical touches and 
indirect satires on the government, which he 
was obliged to alter when he printed his speech. 

M. de Boismorel, who was intimate with him, 
endeavored in vain to obtain a faithful copy, 
which he would have communicated to me ; 
the Abbe de Besplas, attached to the court as 
chaplain to Monsieur, was exceedingly fortunate 
to procure pardon for his boldness, by the 
absolute sacrifice of the offensive remarks. The 
evening session of the Academy opened a career 
to the first-rate wits in the kingdom, to the 
grandees who wished to enter their names on 
that list, and exhibit themselves in such a con- 
spicuous station to the eyes of the public ; in 
fine, to the amateurs who went to hear one class, 
to see another, and to show themselves to all ; 
and to the handsome women, who were sure of 
their share of attention. 

I noticed especially d'Alembert, whose name, 
and whose " Miscellanies" and "Discourses con- 
cerning the Encyclopedia," had excited my curi- 



298 Private Memoirs 

osity. His insignificant figure and shrill voice 
made me think that it was better to be ac- 
quainted with the writings of a philosopher than 
his person. The Abbe de Lille confirmed this 
observation, in respect to men of letters ; he 
read some charming verses in a very clumsy 
manner. The eulogy on Catinat by La Harpe 
gained the prize, and it well deserved it. 

As free from affectation at the Academy as 
in the church, and as I have since then been 
when at the play, I did not mingle in the noisy 
plaudits conferred on the striking passages, for 
these were often meant only to evince the fine 
taste and discrimination of those who bestowed 
them. I was extremely attentive ; I listened 
without noticing those around me ; and when 
I was affected I wept, without caring whether 
it appeared singular to any one. I however 
had occasion to perceive that this was the case ; 
for, as M. de Boismorel conducted me to the 
door, I noticed certain persons pointing me out 
to one another with a smile, which I was not 
vain enough to imagine proceeded from admi- 
ration, but which had nothing uncivil in it; and 
I heard them comment upon my sensibility. I 
experienced a certain mixture of surprise and 



of Madame Roland 299 

agreeable confusion; and was at length happy 
to escape from the crowd and their attention. 

The eulogy of Catinat suggested to M. de 
Boismorel an interesting pilgrimage; he pro- 
posed to me a visit to St. Gratien, where this 
great man had ended his days in retirement, at 
a distance from the court and its honors ; it was 
a philosophical walk, perfectly suited to my 
taste. M. de Boismorel, accompanied by his 
son, accordingly came on Michaelmas-day to 
take my father and me along with him. We re- 
paired to the valley of Montmorency, and visited 
the borders of the lake that embeUishes it ; we 
then ascended to St. Gratien, and reposed under 
the shade of those trees which Catinat had 
planted with his own hand. After a frugal 
dinner we spent the remainder of the day in the 
delicious park of Montmorency ; we saw the 
cottage which Jean Jacques Rousseau had inhab- 
ited, and we enjoyed all the pleasure which a 
charming country affords, more especially when 
there are several that contemplate it with equal 
admiration. During one of those pauses given 
to silent contemplation of the majesty of nature, 
M. de Boismorel took from his pocket a manu- 
script, written with his own hand, and read a 



300 Private Memoirs 

passage to us, of which he had made an extract, 
and which was then but httle known. It was 
that anecdote of Montesquieu, who, on being 
discovered at Marseilles by the young man 
whose father he had rescued, concealed himself 
in order to avoid the thanks of those whom he 
had befriended. Although touched by Montes- 
quieu's magnanimity, I still cannot altogether 
approve his persistence in denying that he was 
the benefactor of this enraptured family. The 
generous man, it is true, never asks for grati- 
tude ; but if it is becoming to avoid its mani- 
festations, is there not, too, something fine in 
permitting the expression of it? I even think it 
is rendering a new service to people of sensi- 
bility whom we have obliged, since it affords 
them a certain means of discharging the debt. 

It must not be supposed that I was altogether 
at my ease in regard to this connection between 
my father and M. de Boismorel ; there was no 
personal equality between them, and of this I 
was too painfully aware. His son regarded me 
closely, but this did not please me, for I saw in 
it more of curiosity than of interest; besides, 
his comparative youth (he was three or four 
years my junior) placed him at a certain dis- 



of Madame Roland 301 

advantage. His father did not fail to note this ; 
and I learned later that he had one day said 
to mine, shaking him by the hand, " Ah, if my 
son were worthy of your daughter, I might 
appear singular, but I should be too happy." 

I did not entertain any idea of this kind ; I 
did not even calculate the disparity; I felt it, 
however, and that prevented me from making 
any suppositions. I judged the conduct of M. 
de Boismorel to be that of a man of sense and 
sensibility, who honored my sex, esteemed my 
person, and, as it were, protected my taste. 
His letters resembled himself: they were char- 
acterized by an agreeable gravity, bore the 
stamp of a mind superior to prejudices, and of a 
respectful friendship. 

I became acquainted through him with what 
are termed the novelties in the learned and 
literary world. I saw him but seldom, though I 
heard from him every week ; and, to spare the 
servants the long trips to and from Bercy, he 
used to send the books he selected for me to 
his sister's, Madame de Faviere's. M, de Bois- 
morel, who was greatly attached to letters, and 
who, consequently, imagined that I ought to be 
employed in that field, or perhaps with a design 



30 2 Private Memoirs 

to sound me, invited me to choose a subject, 
and try my talents at composition. I at first 
considered this as a mere compliment ; but, on 
his returning, to the charge, he afforded me an 
opportunity of stating my views in this regard, — 
my determined dislike of publicity, and my dis- 
interested attachment to study, which I wished 
to render serviceable to my happiness, without 
the intervention of any kind of glory, which ap- 
peared to me only calculated to trouble it. 
After having set forth my principles, I mingled 
with my arguments extemporary verses, the 
ideas of which were better than the expression. 
I recollect, that while speaking of the gods, 
and of the dispensations made by them of bene- 
fits and duties, I said : — 

Aux hommes ouvrant la carri^re 
Des grands et des nobles talents, 
lis n'ont mis aucune barriere 
A leurs plus sublimes dlans. 
De mon sexe faible et sensible, 
lis ne veulent que des vertus ; 
Nous pouvons i miter Titus, 
Mais dans un sentier moins pdnible. 
Jouissez du bien d'etre admis 
A toutes ces sortes de gloire ; 
Pour nous le temple de Mdmoire 
Est dans le coeur de nos amis. 




BEISSOT 



of Madame Roland 303 

M. de Boismorel answered me sometimes in 
the same style. His verses were not much 
better than my own ; but neither of us attached 
great importance to them. 

He called one day to tell me that he was 
desirous to employ a stratagem to stimulate 
the industry of his son, whose application to his 
studies had sadly fallen off. This youth had, 
very naturally, formed an intimacy with his 
cousin de Favieres, a young man of twenty- 
one and a counsellor of the parliament, wild, 
as young men of his years are apt to be, and 
filled with the conceit of a magistrate who 
plumes himself on his office without realizing 
its obligations. 

The Italian comedy or the opera occupied 
the attention of the two cousins much more 
than Cujas and Bartole did the one, or the 
mathematics, which he had just begun to study, 
the other. 

"It is necessary," said M. de Boismorel to me, 
that " you should reprove my son in a letter 
replete with wisdom and penetration : in short, 
in such a manner as your own mind will dictate ; 
and in a way to stimulate his self-love, and 
awaken generous resolutions." 



304 Private Memoirs 

" I, monsieur ! I?" (I could not believe my 
own ears.) "And in what manner, pray, shall I 
be able to preach to your son? " 

" In any manner you please ; you shall not 
appear in the business; we shall contrive to 
make the letter appear to be from some one 
who narrowly examines his conduct, is ac- 
quainted with his proceedings, is interested in 
his behalf, and who thus warns him of his dan- 
ger. I know how to get the letter conveyed 
to him at a moment when it will produce its 
full effect. It is only necessary that he should 
not discover me ; and I shall inform him at a 
proper opportunity to what physician he is 
indebted." 

" Oh ! you must never mention my name ! — 
But you have other friends who can do this 
better than I can." 

" I think otherwise ; and I beg this favor 
of you." 

" Very well, I renounce every other consid- 
eration on purpose to prove my desire of oblig- 
ing you. I shall accordingly transmit you the 
rough draught of a letter, which you shall give 
me your opinion of, and correct." 

That very evening I wrote a pretty sharp and 



of Madame Roland 305 

somewhat ironical epistle, such as I deemed 
proper to tickle the self-love and excite the 
reason of a young man to whom it is necessary 
to talk of his happiness when one wishes to 
convert him to serious habits. M. de Boismorel 
was enchanted with it, and begged me to for- 
ward it without altering a word. Accordingly 
I enclosed it in a note to Sophie, so that she 
might post it at Amiens ; and I waited with 
some curiosity to learn what my sermon might 
result in. 

M. de Boismorel soon sent me certain par- 
ticulars respecting which I was exceedingly 
interested. He had prepared a great many 
circumstances in order to make a greater im- 
pression. The young man was affected : he 
supposed the celebrated Duclos to be the au- 
thor of this remonstrance, and he went to 
thank him. Deceived in this conjecture, he 
addressed himself to another of his father's 
friends, and guessed no better. At length his 
studies were in some measure resumed. 

It was not very long after this, when M. de 

Boismorel, walking with his son one very hot 

day from Bercy to Vincennes, where he knew 

I then was with my uncle, and whither he 

20 



3o6 



Private Memoirs 



brought me the Abbe Dehlle's translation of 
the Georgics, suffered a sunstroke. He treated 
it hghtly; headaches and a fever ensued, and 
then coma; in short, he died in the vigor 
of his age, after a few days' illness. It was 
scarcely more than eighteen months that we 
had corresponded together, yet I wept more 
bitterly, I believe, at his death than his own 
son; and I never recollect him without expe- 
riencing that mournful regret, that sentiment 
of veneration and tenderness, which always ac- 
companies the remembrance of a good man. 

When my sorrow was somewhat softened, I 
celebrated his memory in a monody, which no 
one has ever seen, but which I sang to the 
accompaniment of my guitar, and which I have 
now lost and forgotten. I have never since 
heard anything about his family, save that 
when my father went to pay a visit of condo- 
lence, young Boismorel, who is called Roberge, 
observed carelessly that he had found my let- 
ters to his father, and had put them aside in 
order to return them to me, if desired ; and 
that among them he had discovered the origi- 
nal of a certain epistle he himself had been 
favored with. My father knew very well what 



of Madame Roland 307 

he alluded to. He said but little in reply, 
finding that the young man appeared to be 
piqued : whence I concluded that he was a 
fool, and troubled myself no more about him. 
I do not know whether I guessed right or not. 

Some time before this, Madame de Favieres 
called upon my father, about the purchase 
either of trinkets or some other productions of 
his art. I was in my little study, and heard her 
in the adjoining apartment. 

" You have a charming daughter, M. Phlipon ; 
my brother says that he knows no woman of 
sense who is more so : take care at least that 
she do not become a female wit, for that would 
be detestable. Is she not a little pedantic? 
This is to be dreaded ; for I think I heard some- 
thing of that kind. She has a good figure and 
a pretty face." 

" This is," said I, in my corner, " an imperti- 
nent lady, who resembles her mother exceed- 
ingly. God keep me from seeing her face, or 
exhibiting mine to her ! " 

My father, who knew very well that I must 
have heard her, refrained from calling me, since 
I did not appear; and I never heard the voice 
of Madame de Favieres after that day. 



3o8 Private Memoirs 

I have as yet said but a few words about my 
excellent cousin Trude. She was one of those 
women whom heaven in its goodness forms for 
the honor of the species and the consolation 
of the unfortunate : generous from impulse, 
amiable without effort, I discovered no fault 
in her save an excess of scrupulosity and the 
amour-propre of virtue. She would have deemed 
herself remiss in her duty, had she acted in 
such a way as to give rise to a doubt whether 
she had fulfilled it. Thus constituted, she re- 
mained to the last the victim of the most silly 
of husbands. Trude was a kind of rustic, as 
foolish in his ideas as hasty in his temper and 
coarse in his habits. He dealt in looking-glasses, 
as all the Trudes, from father to son, for some 
generations, had done ; and it was he whom I 
had the honor to have for cousin by my mother's 
side. Active from temperament, laborious by 
fits, aided by the cares and the knowledge of a 
mild and sensible woman, he was fairly pros- 
perous, and owed it to the merit of his wife that 
he was well received by his own family, who 
would not have taken any notice of him had he 
been single. 

My mother was greatly attached to her 



of Madame Roland 309 

cousin, who revered her in return, and became 
very fond of me. 

She demonstrated this, as has been already- 
said, on the death of my mother. Occupied 
during the day with her household affairs and 
her husband, she insisted on being my nurse 
at night, coming a great distance to fulfil the 
functions of one as long as I was in danger. 
This circumstance necessarily connected us still 
more firmly together, and we saw each other 
frequently. 

Her husband took it into his head to visit me 
still oftener than before, and without his wife. 
I tolerated this at first on her account, notwith- 
standing my being weary of his company. He 
became insupportable to me ; and I made use 
of all the discretion possible with a wrongheaded 
man, on purpose to make him perceive that his 
claims as my relation, and the husband of my 
dear friend, were not sufficient to authorize his 
frequent calls, which could no longer be at- 
tributed to the sufferings and illness proceeding 
from my grief 

My dear cousin came a little less often, but 
he spun out his visit to two or three hours, al- 
though I could do anything, and even write, by 



3IO Private Memoirs 

observing to him that I was in a great hurry ; 
but when I invited him in a decisive tone to 
retire, as it was at length necessary to speak 
plainly, he went home in such a bad humor, 
and treated his wife so harshly, that she be- 
sought me to have patience, for her sake. It 
was more especially on Sundays and festivals 
that I was subjected to this tax : when the 
weather was fine I made my escape, and met 
his wife at the house of my aged relations ; for 
to receive her at home, at the same time as him, 
was not to see her, but to witness the disagree- 
able scenes which her cross-grained husband 
never failed to make her experience. 

During the winter I adopted another plan. 
Immediately after dinner I gave the key to my 
maid, who double-locked and triple-bolted the 
door; in this situation I remained alone and in 
perfect tranquillity until eight o'clock at night. 
Trude in the mean time would arrive, and not 
finding any one at home, would retreat. Some- 
times he would walk for a couple of hours in 
the neighborhood, amidst rain or snow, to wait 
for an opportunity to enter. To conceal my- 
self when I was in company with any one was 
almost impossible : absolutely to deny him en- 



of Madame Roland 311 

trance, by determining my father to break with 
him (which would have been difficult, because 
he had no children, and my father therefore 
thought proper to keep on good terms with 
him), would have been to proceed to that ex- 
tremity which his wife dreaded, would have dis- 
solved our connection and exposed her to new 
afflictions. 

I do not know anything worse than to have 
to deal with a fool : there is no other mode to 
be taken with him but to bind him, for every- 
thing else is useless. This loutish cousin was a 
real plague to me, and it was the greatest proof 
of my esteem for his wife, that I refrained from 
throwing him out of the window — in which 
case he would have re-entered by the garret. 
Trude, however, was not destitute of a certain 
kind of politeness : witless rather than brutal, 
he knew how far he could carry his extravagance 
with impunity ; for never was his coarse conver- 
sation indecent ; and, although constantly at 
variance with good sense and good manners, he 
was never improper. 

Whenever his wife came to walk with me, 
he would watch us narrowly; and if a man 
happened to accost us or to bow to us he could 



312 Private Memoirs 

not rest until he had ascertained who it was. 
It may be supposed it was his wife he was jeal- 
ous of, and to a certain extent this was true; 
but he was much more so on my account. In 
spite of the absurdities of the situation Madame 
Trude's submissiveness was accompanied by 
gayety; she would weep one day, and enter- 
tain her friends the next; once or twice in the 
winter these little gatherings would be enliv- 
ened with a dance. Her cousin was always 
the heroine of these occasions, and her husband 
would appear more amiable for some days 
afterwards. I met at her house two persons 
whom I shall here mention ; the one was the 
Abb6 Bexon, a little, witty, hunchbacked man, 
a great friend of Francois de Neufchateau, and 
Masson de Morvilliers. He was author of a 
history of Lorraine, which did not prove very 
successful ; and his pen, like that of many 
others, had been employed by Buffon to pre- 
pare materials and sketches, to which he after- 
wards gave the finishing touches and the coloring. 
Bexon, supported by his protector Buffon, some 
ladies of quality whose relations he had known 
at Riremont (the place of his nativity), and a 
chapter of noble canonesses, became precentor 



of Madame Roland 313 

of the Sainte Chapelle at Paris. He took with 
him his mother and sister, who would furnish 
materials for an episode, had I inclination to 
enter into any detail not necessarily connected 
with the subject. 

The poor creature died too soon for the wel- 
fare of his tall sister, with her black eyes beg- 
ging for adorers, and her beautiful shoulders, 
which she loved to display. He visited me 
twice at my father's, and was so transported to 
find Xenophon in folio on my table, that he 
wished to embrace me in his ecstasy. As this 
was not at all agreeable to me, I calmed him so 
completely by my coolness, that he was content 
to display his wit without his transports ; and I 
never saw him afterwards but at my cousin's. 

The other visitor was honest Gibert. Grave in 
his morals, mild in his manners, married while 
young to a woman who possessed more physi- 
cal charms than sweetness, he had an only son 
by her, whose education occupied his attention. 
He was employed in the post-office, and con- 
secrated a few leisure moments to music and 
painting. 

Gibert possessed all the characteristics of a 
just and good man ; he has never altered. His 



314 Private Memoirs 

faults proceed from lack of judgment; friend- 
ship with him is a species of fanaticism, and 
one is tempted to respect his errors even while 
complaining of them. Gibert had been con- 
nected from his infancy with a man for whom 
he professed as much veneration as attach- 
ment; he vaunted his merit upon every occa- 
sion, and he gloried in being his friend. He 
was desirous of becoming acquainted with me ; 
his wife and he called at my father's, and I re- 
turned the visit; and as they did not often go 
out together, he came by himself from time to 
time. I always received him with pleasure and 
distinction, and in course of time we became 
friends. It was not long before Gibert talked 
to me of his Phoenix ; he appeared as if he 
could not be happy until his friends should 
admire each other; at length, he brought us 
together at his house. 

I beheld a man whose excessive simplicity 
bordered upon negligence ; speaking but little, 
and not fixing the attention of any one, it 
would have been difficult for a person who had 
never heard of him before to form a proper 
judgment upon a first interview; and I avow, 
notwithstanding my liking for a modest deport- 



of Madame Roland 315 

ment, that of this man was so humble that I 
would have readily taken any one's word for 
it. However, as he was neither deficient in 
judgment nor attainments, one had a greater 
desire to be pleased when he chose to exhibit 
them, and ended Hke Gibert in giving him 
credit for more than he actually possessed. 
His wife, a somewhat commonplace woman, 
but not devoid of sense, always reminded me of 
the intentiqiie ora tenebant of Virgil, when she 
heard her husband speak. He is not, however, 
altogether an ordinary being, who knows how 
to impose thus even upon those who are fa- 
miliar with him, as to the extent of his real 
merit. It is necessary that he should be great 
in something, at least in dissimulation ; and if 
he were interested by circumstances to push 
this as far as possible in important affairs, from 
being a pretended sage who usurps our esteem 
he might finally become a ruffian at the ex- 
pense of his contemporaries. History will en- 
able us to judge of this hereafter. I saw but 
little of Gibert's friend ; he abandoned a lucra- 
tive place, and even France, to live in Switzer- 
land, whither he was carried by his passion for 
a rural life and for liberty. Let him go ; he 



3i6 Private Memoirs 

will return but too soon. It was thus that I 
became acquainted with Pache ;^ for I may now 
say that it is of him that I speak. It will be 
seen how Gibert brought him to my house 
more than ten years afterwards, and introduced 
him to my husband, who deemed him a man 
of uncommon probity. He announced him as 
such at a time when his suffrage could confer 
reputation ; and he procured his entrance into 
the administration, where he committed a 
series of blunders which procured his appoint- 
ment to the mayoralty; and there he sanc- 
tioned those horrors of which the world now 
knows. 

Madame Trude earnestly desired to take a 
journey to visit a relation whom she was fond 
of; this meant an absence of a fortnight or 
three weeks. Her husband deemed it incon- 
venient that the shop should be so long deprived 
of his representative ; however, her plan seemed 
practicable, provided I consented to go there 
sometimes, to occupy her place. My cousin 
asked me to do so ; to express such a wish, 
was enough to make me think that I could not 

^ Pache, later the Jacobin Mayor of Paris, who, on October 
20, 1792, succeeded Servan as Minister of W^ar. 




PACHE 



of Madame Roland 317 

refuse ; and my friendship for her induced me 
to comply without hesitation. 

I accordingly repaired thither seven or eight 
times, and stayed from noon until six o'clock in 
the evening, in order to take Madame Trude's 
place at the counter. Her husband, joyful and 
proud, conducted himself admirably, attended 
to his business outside, and appeared to be 
sensible of the merit of my conduct. It was 
thus decreed that in the course of my life, not- 
withstanding my aversion to trade, I should at 
least sell spectacles, and watch-glasses. The 
situation was not pleasant ; Trude resided in the 
rue Montmartre, not far from the rue TiquetonnCy 
where his successor still lives. I am incapable 
of imagining anything so infernal as the noise 
which the carriages eternally rolling about in 
that neighborhood occasioned, in a shop entirely 
open ; I should have become deaf, as my poor 
cousin is at this day. 

Let us leave her unhappy house, of which 
we shall see the fate, and return to my other 
relation. 

I visited Mademoiselle Desportes once or twice 
every week, on the day when she received com- 
pany, I should have many portraits to paint 



3 1 8 Private Memoirs 

were the originals worth the trouble ; but were I 
to portray a few counsellors of the Chatelet, such 
as little Mopinot, pretending to an epigramma- 
tic kind of wit; the devout la Presle, a good 
man, who had no other fault than that of being 
bilious and a Jansenist; a dowager who veiled 
her love of pleasure under an easy piety, such 
as Madame de Blancfune; an old and rich 
bachelor, too disgusting to be named ; a spruce 
kind of person, reasoning and regulated like a 
clock, such as the placeman Baudin ; and a 
crowd of other individuals of varying humors 
and little merit, I should throw away both my 
colors and my time. I loved, however, to meet 
Father Rabbe, a very shrewd member of the 
oratory, respectable from his age, amiable from 
the politeness of his conversation ; and Doctor 
Coste, a physician of Provence, who amused 
himself in imitating Perrault, without erecting 
a Louvre, and who spoke ill of marriage, much 
as the devil is said to make a wry face at the 
sight of holy water. 

Mademoiselle Desportes had inherited from 
her mother pride and tact, the art of mending 
her small fortune through commerce without 
appearing to be engaged in it, and of treating 



of Madame Roland 319 

on a footing of confidence and equality with 
her rich and titled customers. But this mode 
of dealing consorts ill with the spirit of trade, 
which thrives by an active cupidity; so she 
soon saw her inheritance diminishing, and she 
ended by giving up the business and cutting 
down her expenses. 

Her character and manners and her evident 
attachment to me made my mother wish me to 
cultivate her acquaintance, and I often went to 
her house. Piquet, gossip, and needlework 
occupied the little circle that gathered there ; 
and Mademoiselle Desportes often made me 
take my seat at the card-table — as a discipline, 
I suppose, in complaisance, for she knew the 
amusement was not much to my taste. The 
assistance of my partner and the permission to 
laugh over my own absent-mindedness, made 
the exercise less tedious. 

I must now bring upon the stage in his turn 
an old gentleman then just come from Pondi- 
cherry whom I saw often and with pleasure 
during nearly a year. My father had become 
acquainted, I know not how, but I suppose 
in the way of business, with a half-pay officer, 
later a civil servant out of employment, named 



3 20 Private Memoirs 

Demontchery, He was a man of thirty-six, 
with poHshed manners and a winning air — with 
those graces, in fine, which a knowledge of the 
world confers, and which form perhaps the 
flower of gallantry. Demontchery cyltivated my 
father's friendship, without paying court to my 
mother, who might not have approved of his 
advances. He frankly declared his regard for 
me, and his ambition of soliciting my hand, 
if fortune ceased to prove adverse to him. She 
sent him straight to the East Indies, whence 
he wrote to us and did not conceal his wishes 
for that degree of success which would permit 
him to return with a competence. But being 
only a simple captain of Sepoys, and too honest 
a man to think of acquiring anything, he was 
not, I suppose, very far advanced in this pur- 
suit, when he came home after seven years' 
absence, and, hastening to my father's, learned 
that I had been married a fortnight. I know 
not what has become of him, or what he might 
have inspired me with, had I thought of him. 
During his residence at Pondicherry, he formed 
an acquaintance with a M, de Sainte-Lette, one 
of the members of the council, and intrusted 
him with letters to my father, when the council 



of Madame Roland 321 

deputed Sainte-Lette to Paris, in 1776, on some 
important business. 

Sainte-Lette was more than sixty years of 
age ; he was a man whose vivacity and unruly 
passions had led him astray in his youth, during 
which he dissipated his fortune at Paris. He 
had gone to America, and remained thirteen 
years in Louisiana as superintendent of the 
trade with the savages ; thence he drifted to 
Asia, and found employment in the administra- 
tion at Pondicherry, where he endeavored to 
acquire the means of living one day in France, 
along with the friend of his youth, M. de Seve- 
linges, of whom I shall hereafter make mention. 
A grave and solemn voice, distinguished by that 
tone which experience and misfortune confer, 
and sustained by the ready expression of a 
well-informed mind, struck me at the first 
interview with Sainte-Lette. Demontchery had 
spoken to him about me ; it was this probably 
that inspired him with the desire of forming 
my acquaintance. My father received him gra- 
ciously, and I with eagerness, because I soon 
became much interested in his favor ; his soci- 
ety was exceedingly agreeable, he sought after 
mine, and during the whole of his stay he 
21 



3 22 Private Memoirs 

never let four or five days pass without visit- 
ing me. 

Those who have seen much are always worth 
hearing; and those who have felt much have 
always seen more than others, even if they have 
travelled less than Sainte-Lette. He possessed 
that kind of knowledge conferred far better by 
experience than books ; less learned than philo- 
sophical, he reasoned from the human heart; 
he had retained from his youth a taste for the 
lighter kinds of poetry, and had composed some 
pretty verses. He presented me with several 
of these performances ; I communicated some 
of my reveries to him, and he repeated to me 
several times with a prophetical tone, that is 
to say, with a full persuasion of the event: 
" Mademoiselle, you are in the right to be on 
your guard, for all this will end in your writ- 
ing a book ! " 

" It shall then be under another person's 
name," I replied, " for I will eat my fingers 
sooner than become an author." 

Sainte-Lette met a person ^ at my father's 
whom I had then been acquainted with dur- 
ing several months, and who was destined to 
1 Roland now enters upon the scene. 




ROLAND DE L,A PIvATIERE 



of Madame Roland 323 

have a powerful influence on my lot, although 
I scarcely foresaw it at that period. I have 
already observed that Sophie, though more 
accustomed than myself to mingle in society, 
was far from discovering any advantage in this 
circumstance. She had sometimes spoken to 
me of a man of merit who occasionally resided 
at Amiens, and who often visited at her mother's 
while there, which, however, was not very often, 
because he came to Paris in the winter, and 
often made still longer journeys in the spring. 
She had mentioned him to me, because, amidst 
the insignificant crowd with which she was sur- 
rounded, she distinguished with pleasure an 
individual whose instructive conversation ap- 
peared to her full of novelty, whose austere but 
unaffected manners inspired confidence, and 
who, without being generally beloved (for his 
severity, which sometimes approached harsh- 
ness, was repellent to many), was nevertheless 
universally respected. To him, it seems, Sophie 
had already spoken of her friend ; there was 
much talk, too, in her family of the constancy 
of a certain girlish attachment formed in the 
convent; finally, he had seen my portrait, 
which Madame Cannet introduced in evidence. 



324 Private Memoirs 

"Why, then," he used to say, "do you not 
make me acquainted with this dear friend? 
I go to Paris every year. Why not entrust 
me v/ith a letter for her?" 

He obtained the desired commission in Sep- 
tember, 1775. I was then still in mourning for 
my mother, and in that melancholy and sensi- 
tive mood that succeeds violent grief. A mes- 
senger from my Sophie could not fail to be well 
received. 

" This letter will be delivered," wrote my 
friend, by the philosopher of whom I have 
spoken, M. Roland de la Platiere, an en- 
lightened man of pure morals, who can be 
reproached with nothing save his preference 
of the ancients over the moderns (whom he 
despises) and his foible of being somewhat over- 
fond of talking of himself" This sketch was 
just and well-drawn, as far as it went. 

I saw in our visitor a man past forty, of a 
negligent air and that sort of stiffness that 
comes of studious habits ; but his address was 
easy and direct, and though it lacked the polish 
of the world, it joined the air of good birth to 
the dignity of the philosopher. A face some- 
what lean and sallow, a broad brow already but 



of Madame Roland 325 

sparsely furnished with hair, regular features, 
made up an ensemble that was imposing rather 
than seductive. When Roland became animated 
in conversation, or when he was inspired by a 
specially agreeable idea, his subtle smile and 
animated face made him appear quite another 
person. His voice was manly, and he spoke in 
short sentences, like one whose respiration is 
labored ; his discourse was full of matter, and 
exercised the judgment more than it flattered the 
ear ; his speech'^as piquant at times, but harsh 
and inharmonious in delivery. In my opinion, 
the charms of the voice possess a rare but power- 
ful effect over the senses ; this does not alone 
appertain to the quality of the sound ; it results 
still more from that delicacy of sentiment which 
varies the expression and modifies the accent. 

[ They interrupt, to inform me that I am com- 
prehended in Brissofs act of accusation} along 
with many other deputies recently arrested. The 
tyrants are at bay ; they think to fill up the pit 
open before them, by precipitating worthy people 

1 Madame Roland was not, in fact, comprehended in this 
document, but she was summoned as a witness. Her testi- 
mony, however, was not taken, the enemies of the Gironde 
doubtless dreading the appearance before the Tribunal of so 
dauntless and outspoken an advocate. 



326 Private Memoirs 

into it ; but they themselves will fall in after- 
wards. I do not dread going to the scaffold in 
stich good company ; it is disgraceful to live in 
the -midst of ruffians. I shall send away this 
section of my memoir, and prepare to proceed on 
another, if I am permitted. 

Friday, October 4, the birthday of my daugh- 
ter, who on this day is twelve years of age.~\ 

This subtle charm of the voice, entirely dis- 
tinct from its force, is no more common among 
the orators whose profession calls forth the exer- 
cise of it, than in the crowd that composes soci- 
ety. I have searched for it in our three national 
assemblies, but have not found it perfect in any 
one person ; Mirabeau himself, with the impos- 
ing magic of a noble utterance, possessed neither 
a winning voice nor a pronunciation the most 
agreeable. The Clermonts approached nearer 
to it. 

" Where, then, was your model ? " some one 
may ask. I shall answer, like that painter of 
whom it was demanded whence he borrowed the 
charming air with which he inspired the crea- 
tions of his brush : " There, within," replied he, 
putting his finger to his forehead. I shall place 



of Madame Roland 327 

mine on my ears. I have frequented the thea- 
tres but seldom ; I think I have discovered, 
however, that this accomplishment was seldom 
to be found there. Larive, the only actor per- 
haps worth citing, still left something to be 
desired. 

When, in my early youth, I experienced the 
first promptings of the young woman's natural 
desire to please, I was startled at the sound of 
my own voice, and I found it necessary to modify 
it, in order to please myself. I imagine that the 
exquisite sensibility of the Greeks induced them 
to set a high value on everything connected 
with the art of speaking; I comprehend also, 
that Sansculottism makes us disdain these 
graces, and affect rather a rough brutality, 
equally distant from the precision of the Spar- 
tans in their language, so replete with sense, 
and the eloquence of the amiable Athenians. 

But we left Lablancherie some time ago at 
Orleans; let us now make an end of this person- 
age. On his return, a little after the death of 
my mother, he learned of this event on coming to 
see her, and manifested a degree of surprise 
and grief that affected and pleased me. He 
came afterwards to visit me ; I was pleased to see 



328 Private Memoirs 

him. My father, who at first imposed upon 
himself the task of remaining with me when 
any one called, discovered that the office of a 
duenna was not to his taste, and that it would 
be more convenient for him to dismiss at the 
outset every one not up to his standard, and 
leave me to my maid and myself. He an- 
nounced that he entertained thoughts of re- 
questing Lablancherie not to return any more. 
I did not say a single word in reply, although I 
experienced some chagrin ; I was occupied in 
figuring to myself the feelings of the discarded 
swain in consequence of this prohibition, and I 
resolved to soften it for him by dehvering the 
injunction myself, for my father's temper made 
me fear that he would render it offensive. One 
must tell the truth ; I was partial to Lablancherie, 
and fancied that I could love him ; so far, it was 
an affair of the head only, I believe ; but matters 
were progressing, I wrote, therefore, a polite 
letter conveying Lablancherie's dismissal, which 
deprived him of all hope of replying to me, but 
still left him free to think he was not altogether 
indifferent to me — if there was aught of conso- 
lation in that. 

The ice once broken, this incident gave rise 



of Madame Roland 329 

to melancholy and pleasing ideas, and my hap- 
piness was not otherwise affected. Sophie came 
to Paris ; she stayed some time with her mother 
and her sister Henriette, who being now more 
on a level with us in point of our acquired age 
and sedateness, became also my de^r friend. 
The charms of her lively imagination shed their 
radiance everywhere, and animated the ties which 
she had formed. 

I often repaired to the Luxembourg, with my 
two friends and Mademoiselle d'Hangard ; I 
met Lablancherie there ; he saluted me respect- 
fully, and I returned the salute with some 
emotion. 

"Then you know this gentleman?" said 
Mademoiselle d'Hangard, who had at first 
imagined the salute intended for herself 

"Yes; and do not you ? " 

"Oh! certainly; but I have never spoken 
to him. I know the Mesdemoiselles Bordenave, 
the younger of whom he asked in marriage." 

" Is it long since?" 

" A year, perhaps eighteen months ; he had 
found means to get himself introduced into the 
house ; he went thither from time to time, and 
at length offered himself. These young women 



330 Private Memoirs 

are rich, the younger is handsome ; he has not a 
sou, and is in search of an heiress, for he made 
a similar demand in respect to another person of 
their acquaintance, which they heard of. They 
dismissed him; we call him the lover of eleven 
thousand virgins. How did you know him?" 

" By seeing him often at Madame Lepine's 
concert." And I at the same time bit my lips, 
while I withheld the rest, greatly chagrined at 
having fancied myself beloved by a man who 
doubtless had solicited my hand merely because 
I was an only daughter, and still more piqued 
at having sent him a letter which he did not 
deserve. Matter for meditation in order to 
exercise my prudence at another opportunity ! 

A few months had elapsed, when a little 
Savoyard came one day to tell my maid that 
some one wanted to speak to her, I know not 
where : she went out, returned, and told me 
that M. Lablancherie had begged her to entreat 
me to see him. It was on a Sunday, and I 
expected my relations. " Yes," I replied, " let 
him come here immediately ; since he is waiting 
for you near the house, go find him, and bring 
him with you." Lablancherie arrived: I was 
seated in a corner near the fire. 



of Madame Roland 331 

" I did not dare, mademoiselle, to present 
myself before you, after your prohibition ; I 
was extremely desirous to speak to you, and 
I cannot express what I felt in consequence of 
the dear and cruel letter which you then ad- 
dressed to me. My situation has altered since 
that epoch; I have projects at present with 
which you must not remain unacquainted." 

He then unfolded to me the plan of a moral 
and critical work, in epistolary form, after the 
manner of the " Spectator," inviting me at the 
same time to treat some subject in this way. 
I allowed him to go on without interruption ; 
I even waited after he had made a little pause, 
until he should have quite emptied his budget. 
When he had said everything, I began in my 
turn. I observed to him with frigid politeness 
that I myself had taken the trouble to request 
him to discontinue his visits, because the senti- 
ments he had declared to my father respecting 
me made me suppose that he wished to con- 
tinue them, and I was desirous to demonstrate 
my gratitude for this attention ; that at my time 
of life the vivacity of the imagination mingles 
itself with almost all affairs, and sometimes 
changes the appearance of them; but that 



33 2 Private Memoirs 

error was not a crime, and that I had recovered 
from mine with too good a grace for me to 
trouble myself any more on that subject; that 
I admired his literary projects, without wishing 
to participate either in them or in those of any 
one else ; that I confined myself to wishing for 
the success of all the authors in the world, as 
well as for his, of whatever kind they might be, 
and that it was to tell him this I had consented 
to see him, in order that he might thenceforth 
avoid every similar attempt. After which I 
begged him to terminate his visit. 

Surprise, grief, agitation, everything proper 
to such a situation, was about to be displayed. 
I put a stop to this by observing to Lablancherie 
that I was ignorant whether the Mesdemoiselles 
Bordenave and others, to whom he had ad- 
dressed himself nearly at the same time, had 
expressed themselves in regard to him with an 
equal degree of frankness, but that mine was 
unbounded ; and that the resolutions in con- 
sequence did not admit of any explanation. 

I rose at the same time, bowed, and made 
that motion of the hand which indicates the door 
to those whom we wish to dismiss. At this 
moment my cousin Trude arrived ; and never 



of Madame Roland 333 

did I see his rude visage with more pleasure. 
Lablancherie retreated in silence, and I saw him 
no more ; but who has not since heard of " the 
agent-general of the correspondence of the arts 
and sciences? " 

He off the stage, let us return to Sainte- 
Lette and Roland. 

We had arrived at the close of the summer 
of 1776. I had several times seen M. Roland 
during the last eight or nine months. His 
visits were not frequent, but they were not 
short; just as the people who do not go out 
merely on purpose to show themselves at some 
place, but repair thither because being there 
affords them pleasure, stay as long as they can. 
His frank and instructive conversation never 
wearied me ; and he loved to see himself listened 
to with attention, which I knew well how to 
bestow even upon people less informed than 
himself. This trait has perhaps gained me more 
friends than the faculty of delivering my own 
sentiments with some readiness. 

I had first got acquainted with him on his 
return from Germany. He was then preparing 
for a journey into Italy; and, with that lauda- 
ble love of method which characterized him, 



3 34 Private Memoirs 

he had left his manuscripts with me, so that I 
could take charge of them in case of any mis- 
hap occurring to himself. I was sincerely af- 
fected with this mark of esteem, and I received 
it with thanks. 

On the day of his departure he dined at my 
father's with Sainte-Lette. On taking leave, 
he requested permission to embrace me; and 
I know not how, but this mark of politeness 
always puts a young woman to the blush, even 
when her imagination is tranquil. " You are 
happy in departing," says Sainte-Lette to him, 
with his grave and solemn voice ; " but make 
haste to return, in order to ask for another." 

During Sainte-Lette's stay in France, his 
friend Sevelinges became a widower. He re- 
paired to him at Soissons, where he resided, 
to share his grief, and brought him to Paris 
in order to divert him. They visited me to- 
gether. Sevelinges was fifty-two years of age ; 
he was a gentleman of small fortune ; he held 
a place in the finances in the province, and 
cultivated letters as a philosopher who knows 
their charms. Having thus formed an ac- 
quaintance with him, I maintained it after the 
departure of Sainte-Lette, who observed that 



of Madame Roland 335 

he found some pleasure on leaving France, in 
reflecting that his friend would not lose the 
advantage of my society; he even asked per- 
mission to transmit to him, in order to be 
returned to me after a short delay, some manu- 
scripts which I had communicated to him. 

This interesting old man embarked perhaps 
for the fifth or sixth time of his life. An ulcer 
in his head, which he had already suffered from, 
opened while at sea; and he arrived ill at 
Pondicherry, where he died, six weeks after his 
return. We heard of his death through Demont- 
chery. S^velinges regretted him exceedingly. 
He wrote to me from time to time ; and his let- 
ters, equally abounding in agreeable description 
and felicities of style, afforded me great pleasure. 
They were tinged with that mild philosophy 
and melancholy sensibility, for which I always 
possessed a great inclination. I also have re- 
marked what Diderot has said on this subject, 
and with some justice, that great taste presup- 
poses great sensibility, and a temperament in- 
clined to melancholy. 

My father, whose good disposition had altered 
by degrees, objected to this display of talents 
at such an expense of postage. I accordingly 



336 



Private Memoirs 



applied to my uncle, who authorized me to 
cause the letters of Sevelinges, whom he had 
seen at our house, to be addressed to him. My 
manuscripts were returned to me, accompanied 
by some critical observations of which I was 
exceedingly vain ; for I had not supposed my 
" works " worth examination. They were in my 
own eyes reveries, sage enough, but trite, and 
relating to things which it appeared to me that 
every one must be acquainted with. I did not 
think they possessed any other merit than the 
singularity of having been composed by a 
young girl. I long preserved the most perfect 
indifference on my own account. The events 
of the Revolution, the change of affairs, the 
variety of my situations, the frequent compari- 
sons with a great crowd, and with people dis- 
tinguished for their merit, were all necessary, 
in order to make me perceive that the plane 
on which I stood was not encumbered with 
numbers. As to other points, and I hasten to 
make the observation, this has rather proved to 
me the mediocrity of my countrymen, than 
inspired a high idea of myself. It is not abil- 
ity that is wanting ; that may be found in the 
streets: it is correctness of judgment, and 



of Madame Roland 337 

strength of character. Without these two quali- 
ties, however, I am unable to recognize what 
may be termed a man. In truth Diogenes was 
in the right to take a lantern ! But a revolu- 
tion may serve instead of one : I do not 
know a better measure, or a more exact touch- 
stone. 

The Academy of Besangon had proposed the 
following question as the subject of a prize 
essay : " In what manner can the education of 
women contribute to make men better?" My 
imagination took wings ; I seized the pen and 
dashed off a discourse, which I sent in anony- 
mously, and which, as may be beheved, was not 
judged worthy of the reward. No one attained 
this honor. The subject was proposed anew, 
I have not learned with what result, during 
the following year. But I recollect that, in 
wishing to treat on this matter, I deemed it 
absurd to determine on a mode of education 
unconnected with general manners, which de- 
pend on the government ; and thought that we 
ought not to pretend to reform one sex by the 
other, but to ameliorate the species by means 
of good laws. Accordingly I set forth what, 
in my judgment, women ought to be; but I 



3 3^ Private Memoirs 

added, that it was impossible to render them 
such unless in consequence of a new order of 
things. 

This idea, certainly just and philosophical, 
did not meet the aim of the Academy. I 
reasoned on the problem instead of resolv- 
ing it. 

I transmitted a copy of this discourse to M. 
de Sevelinges, after having sent another to 
Besangon. Sevelinges confined his remarks 
solely to the style. My head had become cool ; 
I discovered my work to be exceedingly de- 
fective in the very foundation ; and I amused 
myself with criticising it as if it had been the 
production of another at which I wished to 
laugh heartily. This looks like tickling one's 
self to create a laugh, or slapping one's face by 
way of bringing color into the cheeks : but it 
is assuredly impossible to laugh by one's self 
with better inclination, or more innocence. 

In return, Sevelinges communicated to me 
an academical discourse after his own fashion, 
on the faculty of speaking, which he had ad- 
dressed to the Academy, and respecting which 
d'Alembert had transmitted him a flattering 
letter. There was, if I remember aright, much 



of Madame Roland 339 

metaphysics and a little afifectation in this 
work. 

Six months, a year, and more elapsed in this 
correspondence, in the course of which, however, 
a variety of different ideas were started. Seve- 
linges appeared at length to be unhappy on 
account of my situation, and weary of living 
by himself He made many reflections on the 
charms of a thinking society ; I deemed this 
extremely valuable ; we reasoned a long time 
on the subject. I do not well know what came 
into his head, but he at length took a journey 
to Paris, and presented himself incognito at my 
father's, as if upon business. What is most 
diverting is, that I did not recollect him, al- 
though it was I myself who received him. But 
the excessively mortified air with which he left 
me awakened in my memory the idea of his 
features. It occurred to me, after his departure, 
that the unknown person resembled him greatly; 
and I was presently assured by his letters that 
it was really himself. This singular occurrence 
made a disagreeable impression on me, which I 
do not know how to define. Our correspond- 
ence slackened ; it at length ceased, as I shall 
hereafter mention. 



340 Private Memoirs 

I went sometimes to Vincennes : my uncle's 
parsonage was very pretty, the walks were 
charming, his society was agreeable ; but al- 
though he possessed the advantage of a house- 
keeper in Mademoiselle d'Hannaches, he began 
to find that he was obliged to pay for this by 
submitting to all the ill humor and folly of an 
old maid with great pretensions. 

The castle of Vincennes was inhabited by a 
number of persons lodged there by the court. 
Here was an old censor-royal, Moreau de la 
Garve ; there a female wit Madame de Puisieux; 
farther off a Countess de Laurencier; below, 
the widow of an officer; and so of the rest, with- 
out reckoning the king's lieutenant, Rougemont, 
whom Mirabeau has made known to the world, 
and whose pimpled face, and stupid insolence 
formed the most disgusting combination. A 
company of Invalides, the wives of whose offi- 
cers composed part of the society, formed along 
with those I have reckoned, without count- 
ing the prisoners in the dungeons, six hun- 
dred inhabitants in the castle alone. My uncle 
was welcome everywhere, but he visited little 
and saw few people at home. But in returning 
from our evening walks we usually stopped at 




BARBAROUX 



of Madame Roland 341 

the pavilion on the bridge belonging to the 
park where the ladies assembled. There I 
found new pictures to paint, if I had time. 
But the hours have wings, and my task is long ; 
so I must pass swiftly over many things. I 
may, however, mention the balls in the allee dcs 
Voleiirs; the follies of Seguin, treasurer of the 
Duke of Orleans, whose fete they celebrated with 
illuminations, and who became a bankrupt soon 
after; the forest rambles, and the lovely view 
in the upper park beside the Marne, to gain 
which we passed through a breach in the wall ; 
those wooden figures of hermits, so picturesquely 
placed in the church, where there was also a 
picture as good in execution as it was gro- 
tesque in subject, and which represented thou- 
sands of devils who were engaged in tormenting 
the damned in as many different ways ; my 
readings with my uncle, especially of the tra- 
gedies of Voltaire ; our concerts after supper, 
when, on the newly-cleared table, a pair of 
mufif boxes did duty as a music-stand for the 
good Canon Bareux who (in spectacles) droned 
away dismally on his bass-viol, while I scraped 
the violin, and my uncle made a pretence of 
accompanying us on his flute. Ah ! perhaps 



342 Private Memoirs 

I may revisit some day those peaceful scenes, 
if they permit me to Hve. But I must now 
return in my narrative to Paris, — first, how- 
ever, saying a word or two of a certain boaster 
who had gained some reputation, . , } 

1 See Madame Roland's foot-note on the following page. 



of Madame Roland 343 



SKETCH 

OF WHAT REMAINS TO BE NARRATED TO 
SERVE AS A CLOSING SUPPLEMENT TO MY 
PRIVATE MEMOIRS.^ 

^ I ''HE manuscripts which M. Roland left in 
■*■ my care during the eighteen months he 
passed in Italy, made me better acquainted 
with him than frequent visits would have done. 
They comprised travels, reflections, plans of 
works, personal anecdotes ; and a strong mind, 
incorruptible honesty, knowledge, and taste 
were evinced throughout. 

Born amidst opulence and of a family distin- 
guished in the law for its probity, he had while 

1 I ended my last chapter at Vincennes. I was about to 
speak of Carricioli, whom I met at the Canon's, and whose 
" Letters," signed " Ganganelli," have met with some success, 
although they are largely repetitions of passages in the numer- 
ous little books from his hand. But had I thus followed the 
course of events, step by step, I should have undertaken a 
work which I shall not be allowed to live long enough to 
finish. Therefore I confine myself to a Sketch. 



344 Private Memoirs 

still young seen its fortunes decline through 
disorder on one side and extravagance on the 
other. The youngest of five brothers, and like 
them destined for the church, he had left home 
at nineteen to avoid taking orders or engaging 
in commerce, to which he was no less averse. 
Arriving at Nantes he established himself there 
with a ship-owner, to gain an insight into affairs 
and with the view of going out to India. A 
sudden hemorrhage, which forbade a long sea- 
voyage, upset this plan. He repaired to Rouen, 
where a relative, M. Goudinot, inspector of 
manufactures, proposed to him to enter that 
branch of the administration. He determined 
to comply, and, soon distinguishing himself by 
his activity and industry, at length found him- 
self advantageously settled. 

Travel and study divided his time and occu- 
pied his life. Before setting out for Italy he 
had brought to my father's his favorite brother, 
a Benedictine, then prior of Clugny at Paris. 
He was a gifted man of gentle manners and 
amiable character. He came sometimes to see 
me, and to read to me the notes his brother 
had transmitted to him ; for as he travelled, he 
committed his observations to paper. These 



of Madame Roland 345 

are the notes which on his return he converted 
into letters and caused to be pubHshed, en- 
trusting the printing of them to some friends 
at Dieppe, one of whom, enamored of ItaHan, 
evinced his respect to the passages in that lan- 
guage, by multiplying them. This work, which 
is replete with matter, only wants to be better 
digested to hold the first rank of all books of 
Italian travel.^ To issue a new and correct edi- 
tion was one of our projects since our union ; 
but I also wished to see Italy ; time and events 
have carried us elsewhere. 

On the return of M. Roland, I found a 
friend ; his gravity, his manners, his habits, 
wholly consecrated to literary labors, made me 
consider him as it were without sex, or as a 
philosopher who existed by reason only. A 
sort of confidence established itself between us ; 
and in consequence of the pleasure which he 
experienced in my company, he contracted by 
degrees the desire of visiting me oftener than 
before. It was near five years that I had been 

1 This book, published under the title " Letters written 
from Switzerland, Italy, Sicily, and Malta in 1776, 1777, 1778," 
is pronounced by Michelet the best one on its subject produced 
in France during the eighteenth century. 



346 



Private Memoirs 



acquainted with him, when he made a declara- 
tion of tender sentiments. I was not insensible 
to this, because I esteemed his person more 
than that of any other man I had hitherto 
known, but I realized that neither he himself 
nor his family were altogether suitable to me 
or to mine in respect to external appearances. 
I told him frankly that his courtship did me 
honor, and that I would consent with pleasure, 
but that I did not think myself a good match 
for him ; I then disclosed to him without reserve 
the state of our affairs : we were ruined. I had 
saved, through demanding an account from my 
father, at the risk of experiencing his hatred, 
five hundred livres of yearly income, which, 
with my wardrobe, formed the remnant of that 
apparent affluence in which I had been brought 
up. 

My father was young; his errors might 
induce him to contract debts which his inability 
to discharge would render dishonorable : he 
might make an unfortunate marriage, and add 
to these evils children who would bear my 
name in misery, etc. I was too proud to 
expose myself to the ill-will of a family which 
would not deem itself honored by my alliance, 



of Madame Roland 347 

or to the generosity of a husband, who on 
my part would find nothing but objects of 
vexation ; I advised M. Roland in the same 
manner as a third person would have done, and 
endeavored to dissuade him from thinking of 
me. He persisted ; I was affected, and I con- 
sented that he should take the necessary steps 
with my father ; but, preferring to express him- 
self in writing, he was resolved to broach the 
matter by letter on his return to the place of 
his residence ; and during the remainder of his 
stay in Paris we saw each other daily. I con- 
sidered him as the being to whom I was about 
to unite my destiny, and I became attached to 
him. 

As soon as he had returned to Amiens, he 
wrote to my father to explain his wishes and 
designs. My father found the letter dry; he 
did not like M. Roland's stiffness, and liked ill 
to have for his son-in-law an austere man, 
whose looks appeared to him to be those of a 
censor; he replied with harshness, imperti- 
nence, and showed the whole to me, but not 
until he had sent off his answer. I instantly 
came to a resolution. I informed M. Roland, 
that the event had but too well justified my 



348 



Private Memoirs 



fears in respect to my father ; that I would not 
occasion him further mortifications, and I begged 
him to abandon his project. I declared to my 
father what his conduct had obliged me to do. 
I added that after this, he need not be aston- 
ished if I entered into a new situation, and 
retired to a convent. But as J. knew he had 
some pressing debts, I gave him the portion of 
plate that appertained to me, to satisfy them; 
I hired a little apartment at the Congregation, 
and retreated thither, firmly resolved to limit 
my wants by my means. I did so. 

I could detail some interesting particulars 
respecting a situation in which I began to call 
forth the resources of a strong mind. I nicely 
calculated my expenditure, laying aside some- 
thing for presents to the servants of the house. 
Potatoes, rice, and kidney-beans, stewed in a 
pot with a few grains of salt and a bit of butter, 
varied my food and my cookery, without con- 
suming much of my time. I went out twice a 
week, once to visit my old relations, and again 
to repair to my father's, where I cast an eye 
over his linen and carried away what wanted 
mending. The rest of the time, inclosed with- 
in my roof of snow, as I called it (for I lodged 



of Madame Roland 349 

near to heaven, and it was winter), without 
wishing to form any acquaintance with the 
boarders, I resigned myself to study. I forti- 
fied my heart against adversity by deserving 
happiness, and I avenged myself on that for- 
tune which refuses to grant it. The loving 
Agathe spent half an hour with me every 
evening; the sweet tears of friendship accom- 
panied the effusions of her heart. A turn in 
the garden during the hours when everybody 
had retired, formed my solitary walk; the 
resignation of a sage mind, the peace of a good 
conscience, the elevation of a character that 
defies misfortune, those laborious habits that 
make the hours fly so swiftly away, that delicate 
taste of a sound understanding which finds, in 
the sentiments of existence and the idea of its 
own value, indemnifications unknown to the 
vulgar: such were my treasures. I was not 
always free from melancholy; but this had its 
charms ; and if I was not happy, I had within 
ray own bosom all that was necessary to be so ; 
I could pride myself in knowing how to do 
without what I wanted in other respects. 

M. Roland, astonished and afflicted, continued 
to write to me, as a man who did not cease to 



3 50 Private Memoirs 

love me, but who had been hurt by the conduct 
of my father : he returned at the end of five or 
six months, and was inflamed at seeing me at 
the grating, where I however retained the 
countenance of prosperity. He wished me to 
leave this inclosure, offered his hand to me 
anew and pressed me through his brother the 
Benedictine to accept it. I reflected profoundly 
on what I ought to do. I did not dissemble 
that a man less than forty-five years of age 
would not have waited several months to try to 
prevail upon me to change my resolution, and I 
readily allowed that this idea had reduced my 
sentiments to a state in which there was no 
illusion. 

I considered on the other hand, that this 
offer, so maturely reflected upon, ought to con- 
vince me that I was respected, and that if 
Roland had overcome his dread of the inciden- 
tal vexations which my alliance might produce, 
I was so much the more assured of an esteem, 
which I should not have any difficulty in justi- 
fying. In fine, if marriage was, as I believed it 
to be, a stringent tie, an association in which 
the wife usually charges herself with the happi- 
ness of two individuals, would it not be better 



of Madame Roland 351 

for me to exercise my faculties and my courage 
in this honorable task, than in the retirement in 
which I lived? 

I might here, I think, detail some very sage 
reflections which determined my conduct; for 
as yet I have not mentioned all those which the 
circumstances could have suggested, but those 
only which experience permits me to perceive. 
... At length ^ I became the wife of a man of 
genuine worth, who loved me more in propor- 
tion as his knowledge of me increased. Mar- 
ried thus with my own full consent, I found 
nothing to make me repent of the step ; I de- 
voted myself to him with a zeal perhaps more 
ardent than discreet. Considering only the 
happiness of my partner, I saw that he lacked 
something for the completion of mine. I have 
not for a moment ceased to behold in my hus- 
band one of the most estimable of men, to 
whom I deem it an honor to belong ; but I 
have often been sensible of a certain lack of 
parity between us, and felt that the ascendency 
of a somewhat masterful character, added to 
twenty years of seniority, rendered one of these 
superiorities too great. If we had lived in soli- 

1 February 4, 1779. 



3 52 Private Memoirs 

tude, I should have had many disagreeable 
hours to pass ; had we mingled much in the 
world I might have been loved by some whose 
affection, as I have learned, might touch me too 
deeply ; I plunged, therefore, into work with my 
husband — -an excess which also had its draw- 
backs, since he soon grew so accustomed to 
my aid as to be unable to dispense with it. 

The first year of my marriage was spent at 
Paris, whither Roland was called by the In- 
tendants of Commerce, who wished to enact 
new regulations of manufactures — measures 
which he strenuously opposed as colliding with 
those principles of freedom of trade which he 
advocated. He had printed the description of 
certain processes, which he had drawn up for 
the Academy ; and he revised his Italian manu- 
scripts, I acted as his secretary and corrected 
his proofs. I performed these tasks with a 
humility that I cannot help smiling at when I 
recollect it, and which was incongruous enough 
in a mind so cultivated as mine ; but it pro- 
ceeded from the heart. I revered my husband 
so frankly that I supposed he knew everything 
better than myself; and I so dreaded to see a 
cloud upon his brow, and he was so set in his 



of Madame Roland 353 

opinions, that it was not until long afterwards 
that I gained assurance enough to contradict 
him. 

I was then taking a course in Botany and 
Natural History; those were the recreations 
with which I relieved my labors as housewife 
and secretary ; for, Hving in a hotel garni, since 
our home was not at Paris, and perceiving that 
my husband's delicate health did not accommo- 
date itself to all kinds of cookery, I took it 
upon myself to prepare such dishes as suited 
him best. 

We spent four years at Amiens, where I 
acted as mother and nurse, without ceasing to 
share the labors of my husband, who had un- 
dertaken a considerable portion of the new 
Encyclopaedia. We seldom quitted our study 
but for a ramble in the suburbs. I formed a 
herbarium of Picardy, and the study of aquatic 
botany gave place to U Art dti Tourbier. His 
frequent illnesses made me uneasy for Roland ; 
my constant care of him had its results, and 
this proved a new tie between us. He loved 
me the more for my devotion, I him for the 
services I had rendered. 

He had met while in Italy a young man 
23 



3 54 Private Memoirs 

whose amiable disposition had greatly attracted 
him, and who had returned with him to France, 
where he had taken up the study of medicine, 
and become our intimate friend. This was 
Lanthenas, whom I should esteem more to-day, 
had not the Revolution, that touchstone of 
men, by pushing him forward upon the scene, 
disclosed his mediocrity and feebleness of char- 
acter. He had private virtues, without exterior 
attractions ; he was perfectly suited to my hus- 
band, and was deeply attached to us. I loved 
him, treated him as a brother, and conferred 
that name upon him. For a long time his de- 
votion, his zeal for the right, did not flag. 
During my husband's second ministry, his cour- 
age, now first put to the proof, gave way before 
the increasing storms of the Revolution. He 
wished to steer safely between the two ex- 
tremes of opinion ; his views assumed a new 
tinge ; too humane to sanction the ferocity of 
the Mountain, he lacked courage to cast his lot 
frankly with us. He affected to stand poised 
between the Right, whose " passions " he de- 
precated, and the Left, whose " excesses " he 
could not approve ; he was less than nothing, 
for he earned the contempt of both sides. 



of Madame Roland 355 

During our stay at Amiens, Sophie was mar- 
ried to the Chevaher de Gomicourt, who Hved 
en fermier on his estate six leagues from the 
town. Henriette, who had been partial to 
Roland, to whom her family had wished to see 
her united, heartily approved of his preference 
for me, thus showing the touching sincerity 
that adorned her character and that generosity 
of soul which makes her beloved. She married 
the aged de Vouglans, a widower of seventy- 
five, who had been advised by his confessor 
and his physician to take another wife. Both 
sisters are now widows. Sophie has again 
grown devout; and her frail health causes ap- 
prehension for a life so necessary to her two 
fine children. Our essential disparity of tem- 
perament and opinions and our long separation 
have relaxed without altogether dissolving our 
connection. The frank Henriette, impulsive 
and warm-hearted as of old, has visited me in 
my captivity, and would have taken my place, 
to procure my safety. 

Roland desired shortly after our marriage 
that I should see these dear friends of mine as 
little as possible. I complied with his wishes, 
and I did not feel free to visit them until time 



3 5^ Private Memoirs 

had inspired him with confidence enough in 
me to remove all uneasiness on the score of 
rivalry in affection. It was ill-judged in him. 
/ Marriage is a grave and solemn matter; if you 
deprive a woman of sensibility of the pleasures 
of friendship with persons of her own sex, you 
diminish an aliment necessary to her, and ex- 
pose her to temptation. How many conse- 
quences flow from this truth ! , . . 

We repaired to the g^nhalite of Lyons in 
1784, settling at Villefranche on the paternal 
estate of M. Roland, where his mother still 
lived, together with his eldest brother, the canon 
and counsellor. I might paint here a number 
. of pictures of the life and manners of a little 
town and their influence ; of the domestic jars 
and vexations of a life spent with a woman ven- 
erable through her years and terrible through 
her temper, and with two brothers of whom the 
younger had the passion of liberty, the elder 
of dominion. 

During two of the winter months we resided 
at Lyons, which I know well, and of which I 
could say much. A city superbly built and 
situated, then flourishing in commerce and 
manufactures, interesting through its antiqui- 



of Madame Roland 357 

ties and collections, famed for riches of which 
even the Emperor Joseph was envious, and 
which constituted it so splendid a capital ; to- 
day a vast tomb of victims of a government a 
hundredfold more atrocious than the despotism 
upon whose ruins it is reared. 

We went to the country in the autumn, and 
on the death of my mother-in-law, Madame de 
la Platiere, spent the greater part of the year 
there. The Parish of Th6z6e, two leagues from 
Villefranche, where the Clos de la Platiere is 
situated, is arid of soil, but rich in vines and 
woods ; it is the last vine-growing region before 
the high mountains of Beaujolais. There my 
simple tastes turned to the details of rural econ- 
omy and benefactions ; there I applied, for 
the relief of my neighbors, my little stock of 
medical lore ; I became the physician of the 
village, so much the more beloved because I 
gave succor instead of levying tribute, while the 
pleasure of being useful made my cares a labor 
of love. 

How readily does the countryman open his 
heart to the one who does him good ! I do 
not pretend to say that these good folks felt 
themselves bound to me, but they loved me; 



358 



Private Memoirs 



and my absence was always bewailed with 
tears. I had many pleasant experiences, the 
good women sometimes coming three or four 
leagues for me, with a horse, to beg me to go 
to the rescue of some sufferer who had been 
given up by the doctor. In 1789 I saved from 
death my husband, who had been stricken with 
a painful malady from which the prescriptions 
of the physicians would scarcely have saved 
him but for my superintending care. I passed 
twelve days without sleep, and six months in 
the anxieties of a perilous convalescence, yet 
I was not even once indisposed ; so much does 
courage confer strength and augment our 
activity. 

The Revolution ensued and inflamed us ; 
friends of humanity, adorers of liberty, we be- 
lieved that it would regenerate the species, and 
destroy the disgraceful misery of that unfortu- 
nate class at whose lot we had so often been 
affected ; we received the intelligence with rap- 
ture. Our opinions gave offence at Lyons to 
many individuals, who, being habituated to com- 
mercial calculations, could not conceive how 
any one should be induced out of mere philoso- 
phy, to provoke and applaud changes which 



of Madame Roland 359 

could prove useful only to others. They be- 
came from this idea alone the enemies of M. 
Roland; thenceforward others prized him the 
more. He was made a member of the munici- 
paHty on its first formation; he distinguished 
himself by his inflexible justice ; he was feared, 
and calumny on one side took the field, while 
on the other, affection or impartiahty defended 
him. 

Deputed in the interests of that city to the 
Constituent Assembly, he repaired to Paris ; we 
passed nearly a year there. I have mentioned 
elsewhere how we became acquainted with cer- 
tain members of that Assembly, and connected 
ourselves naturally with those who, like us, did 
not love liberty on their own account, but hers, 
and who with us at present partake the lot com- 
mon to almost all her founders and to humanity's 
true friends, such as Dion, Socrates, Phocio.n, 
and so many others of antiquity, and Barneveldt 
and Sidney in modern times. 

My husband had induced me to visit Eng- 
land in 1784, and Switzerland in 1787. I have 
known many interesting personages in those 
two countries ; we kept up a correspondence 
with several. I have again heard within less 



360 



Private Memoirs 



than a year from Lavater,^ that celebrated pas- 
tor of Zurich, known by his writings, his brilHant 
imagination, his affectionate heart, and the purity 
of his morals. The honest and learned Gosse of 
Geneva will assuredly sigh at the persecution 
we experience. I know not what has become 
of the able Dezach, lately occupied in travel- 
ling through Germany, and formerly professor 
at Vienna, whom I often saw at London. Ro- 
land tilted with him at the house of Banks, the 
president of the Royal Society, where he as- 
sembles the learned of his own country, and 
the foreigners residing in London. 

I experienced during my travels that pleasure 
and advantage which result from the company 
of a man already conversant with the places 
visited, and I remarked on and communicated 
to paper those circumstances that made the 
greatest impression. I also visited several parts 
of France : the Revolution has prevented our 
travels in the southern districts, and the jour- 
ney to Italy, of which I entertained the desire 
and the hope. 

1 Lavater, it is recorded, on meeting Roland at Zurich, 
warmly exclaimed, " You reconcile me, monsieur, to French 
travellers." 




BXJZOT 

FROM THJB PORTKAIT "NVOKN KY MADAME ROLAND XN PK_LSON 



of Madame Roland 361 

Engrossed by public affairs, they occupied all 
our ideas ; they have swallowed up all our pro- 
jects ; we resigned ourselves wholly to the 
passion of serving our country. It has been 
seen in the former part (First Administration) ^ 
how Roland was called to the ministry, as it were 
without his own knowledge ; and his public con- 
duct cannot fail to demonstrate to impartial pos- 
terity his disinterestedness, his attainments, and 
his virtues. 

My father, whom we had no reason to praise, 
neither contracted a marriage, nor any other 
very burdensome engagement ; we paid his few 
debts, settled upon him an annuity, and pre- 
vailed on him to retire from business. In spite 
of the troubles his errors had brought upon 
him (and they had occasioned among other 
things the dissipation of my grandmother's 
small property), and although he had every 
reason to applaud our proceedings, he was 
nevertheless too proud not to chafe at being 
thus indebted to us. This state of irritation, 
rooted in self-love, prevented him sometimes 
from being just even to those who aimed only 
at making him happy; he died, upwards of 
1 Madame Roland refers to her " Historical Notes. 



362 Private Memoirs 

sixty years of age, during the severe winter of 
1787-8, in consequence of a catarrh with which 
he had been long troubled. 

My dear uncle expired at Vincennes, in 1789; 
soon after this, we also lost the dearly beloved 
brother of my husband. He made the tour of 
Switzerland in company with us, and had be- 
come prior and rector of Longpont; he was 
chosen an elector of his canton, where he 
preached liberty, as he practised the evangeli- 
cal virtues ; the lawyer and physician of his 
parishioners, and too wise for a monk, he was 
persecuted by the ambitious of his own order, 
and suffered greatly from their persecutions, 
which accelerated his death. Thus everywhere, 
and in all times, the good succumb ; they have 
therefore another world in which they are to 
revive, and in which they will not suffer the 
penalty attached to being born in this. 

Blind calumniators ! follow Roland close, sift 
his life, analyze mine ; consult the societies in 
which we have lived, the towns where we have 
resided, the country, in which there is no 
dissimulation ; examine . . . The more nearly 
you survey us the more you will be vexed ; 
that is why you wish to annihilate us. 



of Madame Roland 363 

Roland has been reproached with soliciting 
letters of nobility: behold the truth. His 
family long possessed its privileges, in conse- 
quence of employments, which however did not 
render them hereditary, and the opulence which 
supported its attributes — coats of arms, chapel, 
livery, fief, etc. This opulence disappeared ; it 
was succeeded by a genteel mediocrity, and 
Roland had the prospect of ending his days 
in a domain, the sole one remaining in his 
family, and which still appertains to his elder 
brother. He thought that he possessed a right, 
in consequence of his labors, to insure to his 
descendants an advantage which his ancestors 
had enjoyed, and which he would have dis- 
dained to purchase. 

In consequence of this, he presented his 
claims in order to obtain letters recognising 
his nobility, or ennobling him. This was at 
the commencement of 1784; I do not know the 
man who at that epoch, and in his situation, 
would have deemed it discreditable to have 
done as much. I repaired to Paris, and soon 
saw that the new superintendents of commerce, 
jealous of his seniority in a branch of the ad- 
ministration he was better acquainted with than 



364 Private Memoirs 

themselves, and opposing him in opinions rela- 
tive to the liberty of commerce which he de- 
fended with vigor, while they gave him the 
requisite attestations respecting his labors, which 
indeed they could not refuse, did not display 
that zeal which insures success. I thought best 
therefore to abandon the project; and I pushed 
my suit no further. It was then that, learning 
the changes of which I have made mention in 
the curious article of Lazowski, I demanded and 
obtained the removal of Roland to Lyons, which 
brought him nearer to his family, and to a place 
where I knew that he would at length be desir- 
ous to retire. Patriots of the day, who stood 
in need of the Revolution to become some- 
thing, adduce your labors, and dare to com- 
pare them. 

Thirteen years spent in different places, in 
unremitting toil, with connections extremely 
varied, and of which the latter part appertains 
so particularly to the history of the day, would 
furnish materials for the fourth and most 
interesting section of my " Memoirs." The de- 
tached pieces which will be found in my " Por- 
traits and Anecdotes," will serve in its stead. I 
know not any longer how to guide my pen 



of Madame Roland 365 

amidst the horrors that devour my country : I 
cannot live above its ruins ; I choose rather to 
bury myself under them. Nature, open thy 
bosom ! 

At thirty-ni7ie years of age. 



366 Private Memoirs 



DETACHED NOTES 

F I had been permitted to live, I should 
have been actuated but by one desire : this 
would have been to draw up the annals of the 
age, and become the Macaulay ^ of my country. 
I have been seized in my prison with a real 
passion for Tacitus : I cannot now sleep without 
having read some passages of his works. It 
appears to me that we see things in the same 
light; and with time, and on a subject equally 
rich, it might not have been impossible for me 
to imitate him. 

I am very sorry to have lost, along with my 
" Historical Notes," a certain letter ' which I 
wrote to Garat on the sixth of June. On his 
being intrusted with my protestations against 
my detention, he sent me in return a flattering 
letter of four pages, in which he expressed all 

1 Catharine Macaulay, who died in 1791, and whose " His- 
tory of England" Madame Roland seems to have much 
admired. 



of Madame Roland 367 

his esteem, grief, etc. He at the same time 
treated of pubUc affairs, and strove to impute 
their own ruin to the twenty-two, as if they had 
acted and spoken in the Assembly in a manner 
Httle conformable to the interests of the common- 
wealth. I urged cogent arguments to Garat in 
reply, the harsh expression of which I regret : 
I depicted to him his own conduct as the off- 
spring of that pusillanimity to which I attri- 
bute our evils — a weakness shared by a timid 
majority that obeyed only the impulse of its 
own fear. I demonstrated to him that he and 
Barere were calculated to ruin all the states in 
the world and dishonor themselves by their 
indirection. 

I have never been able to prevail upon myself 
to discuss the silly declamations of this pack of 
dunces against what they term the " passions " 
of the Right. Men of probity, firm in their 
principles, and penetrated with a just indigna- 
tion against crimes, forcibly exert themselves in 
opposition to the perversity of a few ruffians 
and the atrocious measures which they dictate ; 
and these eunuchs in politics reproach them 
with speaking too warmly ! 

Roland has been blamed for leaving the min- 



368 Private Memoirs 

istry, after declaring that he would brave every 
storm. They have not discerned that it was 
necessary for him to show his own resolution 
that he might encourage the feeble, and that it 
was thus that he encouraged them on the sixth 
of January; but the sentence of Louis XVI., 
pronounced on the eighteenth, demonstrated 
the minority of wise men and the loss of their 
dominance in the convention. There was no 
longer any hope of support in that body, and 
he withdrew rather than be the accomplice of 
folly. 

Truly, Roland hated tyranny, and he believed 
Louis guilty; but he wished to insure liberty, 
and he believed it lost when bad men had 
gained the ascendency. He is but too well 
justified, as are those whom they are to-day 
conducting to death ! ^ This I think I have 
demonstrated in my narrative of the Second 
Administration of Roland.^ His leaving the 
government was the signal of its downfall, as 
he had -himself foreseen. 

My poor Agathe ! she has flown from her 

^ October 31, 1793, ^^^ ^^Y °f ^^^ Girondists' execution. 
The lines above were thus penned within eight days of the 
writer's own death on the scaffold. 

2 " Historical Notes." 



of Madame Roland 369 

cloister without ceasing to be a mourning dove ; 
for she weeps now for her " daughter," as she 
calls me. Alas, there are many persons whose 
fortunes might have been interwoven in the 
continuation of my story : that good cousin 
Desportes who died at the age of fifty, after 
many sorrows ; the little cousin Trude, now liv- 
ing in the country; my faithful old servant, 
" Mignonne," who died at my father's, passing 
away in my arms with the utmost serenity, and 
saying with her last breath : " Mademoiselle, I 
have never begged but one thing of heaven : it 
was to die with you ; and now I am content." 



24 



3 70 Private Memoirs 



MADAME ROLAND'S FAREWELL 

(^From her ^' Derm'h-es Pensees " ) 

. . Farewell, my dear child, my worthy hus- 
band, my faithful servant, and my good friends ; 
farewell, thou sun, whose resplendent beams 
used to shed serenity over my soul while they 
recalled it to the skies ; farewell, ye solitary 
fields whose sight has so often called forth soft 
emotions; and you, ye rustic inhabitants of 
Thezee, who were wont to bless my presence, 
whom I attended in sickness, whose toil I light- 
ened, and whose penury I relieved, farewell ; 
farewell peaceful retreats, where I have enriched 
my mind with moral truths, and learnt in the 
stillness of meditation to govern my passions 
and to despise the vanity of the world. 

EDITOR'S NOTE 

Madame Roland's recital was cut short and her fate 
was foreshadowed by her removal, on Nov. i, to the 
Conciergerie. At the examination of the witnesses 



of Madame Roland 371 

against her on the two following days little was elic- 
ited beyond the already familiar fact that the Girou- 
dins were her friends and had frequented her house. 
To lend a show of legality to her condemnation it 
was necessary to adduce evidence connecting her 
with the armed uprishigs in the Departments that 
had followed the expulsion of the Girondins from the 
Convention. Such evidence was alleged by the pub- 
lic accuser to be contained in certain letters and 
written messages that had passed between her and 
the fugitive deputies Barbaroux and Buzot, who were 
stirring up resistance to the Jacobin rule at Caen. 
As a matter of fact, the passages from the letters cited 
in court, while they imphed Madame Roland's ap- 
proval of the attempts at Caen and elsewhere to 
foment a Departmental revolt against the Moun- 
tain, were essentially nothing more than general ex- 
pressions of mutual sympathy and regard between 
friends in misfortune. But the Indictment declared 
that : " After the contents of said letters, there can be 
no doubt that the above wife of Roland was one of 
the principal aiders and abettors of the conspiracy." 
The fact that the wife of Roland was a helpless pris- 
oner in Sainte Pelagie at the time when the letters 
were written did not count in the opinion of a court 
bent on the destruction of a political foe ; and a ver- 
dict was promptly found in accord with the demands 
of the Indictment. The death warrant set forth and 
decreed : 



37 2 Private Memoirs 

" That there has existed a horrible conspiracy against 
the unity and indivisibility of the Republic, the liberty and 
safety of the French people. 

" That Marie Jeanne Phlipon, wife of Jean Marie Ro- 
land, is convicted of being one of the aiders or accomplices 
of that conspiracy. 

" That the Tribunal, after having heard the public ac- 
cuser deliver his reasons concerning the application of 
the law, condemns Marie Jeanne Phlipon, wife of Jean 
Marie Roland, ex-minister, to the punishment of death, 
in conformity with the law of Dec. i6, 1792, which has 
been read, and which is conceived in these terms : ' The 
National Convention decrees, that whoever shall propose 
or attempt to destroy the unity of the French Republic, 
or to detach its integral parts in order to unite them to a 
foreign territory, shall be punished with death.' " 

"Such," said Bosc, Madame Roland's friend and 
literary trustee, " was the sentence that sent to the 
scaffold, at thirty-nine years of age, a woman whose 
energetic disposition, feeling heart, and cultivated 
mind, rendered her the delight of all who knew 
her. . . . Citizeness Roland did not at the end de- 
ceive the expectation of her friends. She went to 
the guillotine with all the serenity of a lofty mind 
superior to the idea of death, and possessing suffi- 
cient powers to overcome the natural horror of 
dissolution." 

Madame Roland's execution must be regarded as 
an act of political vengeance, pure and simple. For 
an account of her imprisonment, her last days, and 



of Madame Roland 373 

her bearing in the hour of supreme trial, the reader 
is referred to the Introduction to this vokune. 

Roland refused to long survive his wife. When 
the news of her death reached him, he left his hid- 
ing-place at Rouen, and set out on foot for Paris, 
with the intention of appearing before the Conven- 
tion, denouncing its misdeeds, and securing a release 
from his sorrows on the scaffold. But, on reaching 
Baudoin, four leagues from Rouen, his strength failed 
him, or his purpose changed. Turning aside from 
the highway, the stricken old man entered an avenue 
leading to a private house, and there, at the foot of a 
tree, drew the blade from his sword-cane, and stabbed 
himself to the heart. On his body was found this 
writing : 

" Whoever thou art that findest me lying here, respect 
my remains. They are those of a man who devoted his 
life to useful works, and who has died as he lived, vir- 
tuous and honest. . . . Not fear, but indignation made 
me quit my retreat, on learning that my wife had been 
murdered. I did not choose to remain longer in a land 
polluted with crimes." 

Even more tragic was the fate of Buzot, the man 
whom (as the world now knows) Madame Roland 
loved, and who was the long mysterious object of 
that exalted and passionate farewell addressed in her 
last writings to one " I dare not name, to one whom 
the most terrible of passions has not induced to over- 
step the barriers of virtue." Buzot, tracked from 



374 Private Memoirs 

place to place by the Jacobin emissaries, after the 
triumph of the Convention, came finally to Saint 
Emilion, where, with Petion, he lay for three months 
in hiding. But the Bordeaux authorities, roused to 
sudden vigilance, were soon hot on the trail of the 
outlaws, and they were once more forced to take to 
the open country. What they did and suffered dur- 
ing that last flight is not known ; but after a few days 
the body of Buzot was found, beside that of Petion, 
in a wheat-field, half- eaten by wolves. 

Thus perished the last and youngest of the un- 
happy trio of political dreamers, victims of the Revo- 
lution which they and their friends had helped to 
found, sought to purify, and were unable to control. 




3?etio:n 



Index 



A. 

Abbadie, 148. 

Abbaye, prison of the, 20, 37. 

Agathe, Sister or "Sainte," nun 
of the Congregation, her devo- 
tion to Madame Roland, 96- 
100; 138, 195, 259, 260, 262, 
3497 368. 

America, Madame Roland's wish 
for an asylum in, 86. 

Amyot, Jacques, his "Plutarch," 
14. 

Andre, Pfere, his metaphysics, 
142. 

Angelique (Mademoiselle Rotis- 
set), aunt of Madame Roland, 
103, 104, 121, 129. 

Appian, "Civil Wars " of, 60. 

Aristides, 160. 

Athens, reflections on, 160. 

Augustine, Saint, manual of, 118; 
286. 

B. 

Back, Baron de, musicale of, 220. 

Baillet, Andre, his Life of Des- 
cartes, 142. 

Ballexserd, Genevese author, 191, 
194. 

Banks, Sir J., President of Royal 
Society, 360. 

Bannier, Abbe, 142. 



Barbaroux, Girondin deputy, at 

Caen, 371. 
Bareux, Canon, 341. 
Barneveldt, 359. 
Barre, Mademoiselle de la, 246, 

250. 
Bayle, Pierre, 295. 
Beauregard, Abbe de, popular 

preacher, 289, 290, 
Belloy, 192. 

Benoit, Madame, 214; 217-219. 
Bergier, Abbe, 148. 
Berni Abbe, 209. 
Berruyer, 142. 
Besangon, Academy of, Madame 

Roland competes for prize 

offered by, 337-338 
Besnard, M., 199, 200, 201, 202, 

265. 
Besnard, Madame, 42, iig, 120, 

199, 200, 201. 
Besplas, Abb6, 297. 
Bexon, Abbe, 312-313. 
Beugnot, Comte, quoted, 29, 31, 

32- 

Bibliotheque Nationale, Madame 
Roland's MS. now in, 26. 

Bimont, Marguerite, mother of 
Madame Roland, introduced and 
described, 41; death of, 265. 

Bimont, Madame, grandmother of 
Madame Roland, 58 ; death of, 



37^ 



Ind 



ex 



Bimont, Abbe. 59, 6S, 136, 157, 
159, 2S7; death of, 362. 

Bitaube, his poem of Joseph, 142. 

Blair, sermons of, 2SS. 

Boismorel, Madame de, 103; 
visit to, 121-126; 127, 129,137, 
159, 294. 

Boismorel, M. de, 127, 129, 290, 
291, 292, 293, 295-306. 

Bosc, friend, correspondent, and 
Hterary trustee of Madame 
Roland, 23, 25, 2S ; quoted^ yjz. 

Bossuet, controversial writings of, 
iiS; 142, 286. 

Bouchaud, Madame, concierge at 
Sainte Pelagie, 22, 23, 24. 

Bourdaloue, 286, 287. 

Brion, the Councillor, 124. 

Brissot, Girondin deputy, iii, 325. 

Brunetifere, M. Ferdinand, epi- 
gram of on the French Revolu- 
tion, 13. 

Brutus, apostrophe to, 107. 

Buffon, his Natural History, 75 ; 
169, 312. 

Burlamaqui, 143. 

Buzot, Girondin deputy, at Caen, 
371; death of, 373-374. 



Cajon, music-master, 52, 131, 140. 

Calonne, Controller General, 206. 

Cannet, M., 192. 

Cannet, Madame, 323. 

Cannet, Henriette, 93, 96 ; mar- 
riage of and devotion of, 355. 

Cannet, Sophie, intimate friend 
and correspondent of Madame 
Roland, 92-95; 104, 140, 141, 
171, 172, 187, 190, 267, 305, 
323, 324; marries the Cheva- 
lier de Gomicourt, 355. 



Carricioli, author, 343. 

Catinat, La Harpe's eulogy on, 
298 ; 299. 

Cato, 17. 

Cerceau, Father de, poems of, 9S. 

Cliabot, Frangois, cx-Capucin and 
Jacobin deputy, 112. 

Champagneux, journalist, friend 
of Madame Roland and first 
custodian of her papers, 24-25. 

Charbonne, Madame, her disap- 
proval of "'Candide," 66. 

Chauveau-Lagarde, avocai, his 
offer to defend Madame Roland, 
30-; I. 

Cicero, 167. 

Clarke, Madame Roland studies 
the works of, 148. 

Cleomenes, 193. 

Commune of Paris, 21. 

Conciergerie, prison of, 21, 28. 

Condillac, 142. 

Congregation, convent of the, 
Madame Roland enters as pu- 
pil, 78 ; Madame Roland leaves, 
ioj-io^\ fete at, 13S-140; Mad- 
ame Roland seeks refuge at, 34S. 

Corday, Charlotte, 14, iii. 

Cordeliers, society of the, 115. 

Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, 

193- 
Cossonnifere, Mademoiselle de la, 

216. 
Coste, Dr., 318. 
Courson, apprentice of M. Phli- 

pon, books of, secretly borrowed 

by Madame Roland, 63. 
Crebillon, his " Pere de Famille," 

1S7. 
Creusy, Boyard de, 220. 
Cromwell, Madame Roland reads 

a life of, 209. 
Custine, General, iii, 115. 



Index 



Zll 



D. 



Dabreuil, suitor of Madame Ro- 
land, 231. 

Dacier, his translation of Plu- 
tarch, 14. 

D'Alembert, 297. 

Danton, i5, 208. 

D'Argens, Marquis, 149, 210. 

D'Argens, Madame, 231. 

Delille, Abbe, his translation of 
the " Georgics," 306. 

Delolme, 194. 

Delorme, suitor of Madame Ro- 
land, 231. 

Delpeche, dramatist, 216. 

Demon tchery, suitor of Madame 
Roland, 320, 321, 335. 

De Pauw, 2S6. 

Descartes, 155. 

Desmarteau, engraver, 191. 

Desmoulins, Camille, 153. 

Desportes, Madame, 239, 240,241. 

Desportes, Mademoiselle, 242, 
245, 248, 249, 317, 318, 319, 
369- 

Diderot, 149, 335. 

Dillon, 112. 

Dion, 359. 

Diogenes, 337. 

" Don Quixote," romance of, 142. 

"Doucet" (M. Marchand), tutor 
of Madame Roland, 51, 70, 133. 

Duport, musician, 214. 



^lisee. Father, 2S8. 
England, Madame Roland's visit 
to, 359- 



Faviferes, Madame de, 103, 129, 
301, Z'^l- 



Favieres, M. de, 303. 
Favonius, 24. 
Fenelon, 64, 67. 
Flechier, 286. 
Fleury, Abbe, 142. 
Floquet, composer, 221. 
Folard, the Chevalier de, 142. 
Fouquier-Tinville, 30. 



Garat, Minister of the Interior, 
4S ; 366-367. 

Garat, rector of St. Bartholomew, 
48, 84. 

Gardanne, Dr., his courtship of 
Madame Roland, 239-250. 

Garve, Moreau de la, censor- 
royal, 340. 

Gauchat, Abb6, 148. 

Gensonne, Girondin deputy, in. 

Gertrude, Sister, nun of the Con- 
gregation, 98. 

Gery, Abbe, Jesuitical advances of, 
116-117. 

Gibert, friend of Pache, 313-316. 

Girondins, the, their enthusiasm 
for classic times and worthies, 
13; 17, 20, 30; execution of, 
368. _ 

Gracchi, the, 193. 

Grammont, Duchesse de, quoted, 
29. 

Grand, Abbe le, 167-168. 

Greece, reflections on, 160. 

Guerin, musician, 214. 

Guibal, painter, anecdote of, 46. 

H. 

Hangard, Mademoiselle d', 1S6, 

1S7, 329. 
Hannache, Mademoiselle d', sa- 



378 



Index 



tirical account of, i35-i;;7; visit 
of to Versailles, 157-158 ; 340. 

Haudry, fer7nier-gcneral^ 200, 
204. 

Haudry, the younger, 200, 206, 
207. 

Hebert, iii. 

" Heloise," the, of Rousseau, 272. 

Helvetius, doctrine of, 156, 210. 

Henriot, General, career of, 113. 

" Historical Notes," Madame Ro- 
land's, 21, 24, 25, 26 ; 37-38. 



Irabert, author of "Judgment of 
Paris," 216, 217, 219. 

J. 

Jnrdin du Roi, gi, 100. 

Jar din des Plantes^ 23, 91. 

Jarnowich, musician, 214. 

Jay, Abb6 le, household of, 135- 

136 ; death of, 141. 
Jeauket, Abbe, 210-212. 
Jesuits, the, doctrine of, 155. 
Jollain, painter, 191. 
Joseph, the Emperor, his envy of 

Lyons, 357. 



Lablancherie, Pahin de, literary 
adventurer and suitor of Ma- 
dame Roland, 222, 236, 237, 
239 ; proposal and conge of, 

327-333- 
La Harpe, eulogy of, on Catinat, 

298. 
Lamotte, the demoiselles de, 185, 

18S, 1S9. 
Langlois, Abb^, 124. 



Langlois, artist, cameo of Madame 
Roland by, 152. 

Lanthenas, journalist and member 
of Convention, 354. 

Larive, actor, 327. 

Lavacquerie, jailer at Sainte Pe- 
lagic, 22. 

Lazowski, Polish political adven- 
turer, 364. 

Legrand, Abbe, 271, 272. 

Lempereur, Madame, conjugal 
happiness of, 230. 

Lepine, Madame, 213, 214, 215, 
222. 

Lepine, painter, 191. 

Lille, Abbe de, 298. 

Locke, John, 67, 143. 

Louis XV., 194. 

Louis XVL, 36S ; Ko'and's opinion 
as to sentence of, ibid. 



M. 

Macaulay, Catherine, historian, 

366. 
Maimbourg, 142. 
Maintenon, Madame de, letters of, 

118. 
Malebranche, 155, 197, 198. 
Marat, 279. 

Marchand (" M. Doucet " ), Ma- 
dame Roland's tutor, 51, 70, 133. 
Marie Antoinette, 16. 
Massillon, 286, 287. 
Maupeou, Chancellor, parliament 

of, 160. 
Maupertuis, 169. 
Meudon, excursions to, 179-185; 

258. 
M^zeray, his history of France, 

134-135; i43._ 
Michelet, his opinion of Roland's 

"Letters," 345. 



Index 



379 



Michon, Mademoiselle, proposes 

on behalf of the butcher, 228- 

229. 
Mignard, music-master, 53 ; 132- 

133 ; proposes marriage, 223- 

224. 
Mirabeau, 326, 340. 
Missa, Dr., 196, 197, 198. 
Montaigne, 280. 
Montesquieu, 143, 205, 300. 
Montpensier, Mademoiselle de, 

Memoirs of, 60. 
Mopinot, counsellor, 318. 
More, Genevese watchmaker, 169. 
Morel, Abbe, confessor of Madame 

Roland, 148, 166, 167. 
Morville, Mademoiselle, 214. 
Mountain, political faction of the, 

no, 354,371- 
Mozon, dancing master, 53, 133 ; 
offers himself and is dismissed, 
224. 

N. 

Necker, Madame, 208. 
Nicole, moral essays of, 142. 
Noel, Abbe, 60. 
Nollet, 169. 

O. 

Orleans, Pere d', Madame Roland 
studies writings of, 134. 



P. 

Pache, Mayor of Paris, 316. 
Paradelle, Abbe, 212. 
Pascal, 143. 

Penault, Madame, 201, 202, 203. 
Perdu, counsellor, satirical por- 
trait of, 1S6-187. 



"Pere Duchesne," Madame Re- 
land denounced by, 18 ; 113. 
Petion, Girondin deputy, death 

of, 374- 

Philopoemen, Madame Roland 
compares herself with, 73. 

Phlipon, Gatien, father of Mad- 
ame Roland, introduced and 
described, 39-41 ; death of, 
361. 

Phlipon, Madame Roland's grand- 
mother, loi ; her character and 
household, 102-104; iig, 120, 
121, 124, 126, 199. 

Phocion, 17, 160, 290, 359. 

Pigale, painter, 191, 213. 

Piron, critique of, on the opera, 
221. 

Platiere, Clos de la, family estate 
of Roland, 357. 

Platiere, Madame de la, mother 
of Roland, 356, 357. 

Pluche, Madame Roland studies 
works of, 134. 

Plutarch, influence of on French 
Revolution, 13-15 ; 21 ; 
"Lives" of, first read by 
Madame Roland, 64 ; 227, 273. 

Pompey, 24. 

Pope, Alexander, 192. 

Private Memoirs, Madame Ro- 
land's, how written, 17-27, 

Puffendorf, 209. 

Puisieux, Madame de, 212, 217, 
340- 



R. 

Rabbe, Father, 318. 
Raynal, Abbe, 149, 286. 
R6aumur, 169. 

Rivard, works of, attract Madame 
Roland to geometry, 169-170. 



380 



Ind 



Robespierre, in. 

Roland, Madame, influenced by 
Plutarch, 13-15 ; heroine of the 
Revolution, 16; works of, how 
written, 17-27 ; removal of to 
the Conciergerie, 2S ; trial and 
condemnation of, 29-32 (and 
370-372) ; death of, 33. 

Roland de la Platiere, 25, 171, 
208, 220 ; description of, 322- 
325 ; 333-334 ; his courtship of 
Madame Roland, 343-350 ; mar- 
riage of, 351 ; 355; residence of 
at Lyons and Villefranche, 356- 
357 ; deputed to Paris by Lyons 
municipality, 359; Lavater on, 
360; 361,362; the truth in re- 
gard to his application for letters 
of nobility, 363, 364 ; death of, 

373- 

RoUin, studied by Madame Ro- 
land, 134. 

Rotisset, Mademoiselle, 103. 

Roude, Madame, 124. 

Rougemont, king's lieutenant, 340. 

Rousseau, 27, 209, 210, 272, 273, 
299. 

Rozain, suitor of Madame Roland, 
234-235- 



Sainte Pelagie, prison of, 20, 22, 

23. 24, 25. 
Saint-Lette, M. de, quoted, 38 ; 

320-322. 333, 334; death of, 

335- 
Saint Vallier, M. de, benefaction 

of, ^Z1- 

Saint Victor, the monk of, confes- 
sor at the Congregation, S3-84 ; 
death of, 147. 

Sales, St. Frangois de, 117, iiS. 

Sansculottism, affectations of, 327. 



ex 

Sanson, the executioner, 33. 

Scarron, "Roman Comique" of, 
60. 

Scipio, 193. 

Seguin, treasurer of Duke of Or- 
leans, 341. 

September, " days " of, character- 
ized, no. 

Sevelinges, M. de, suitor of Ma- 
dame Roland, 321, 334-339. 

Sevigne, Madame de, epigram of, 
quoted, 38; letters of, ii8. 

Sidney, Algernon, 359. 

Socrates, 28, 160, 359. 

Solon, 17. 

Soucy, chateau of, visits to, 201- 
205. 

Spinoza, 156. 

Stoics, doctrine of, 155. 

Switzerland, Madame Roland 
visits, 359. 



Taboral, young painter, Madame 
Roland's girlish fancy for, 65. 

Tacitus, 366. 

Tasso, 64-65. 

Thomson, James, 21; his " Sea- 
sons " quoted. 100. 

Toleration, Treatise on, 14S. 

Tribunal, the Revolutionary, func- 
tions of, 115. 

Trude, cousin of Madame Roland, 
infatuation of, for her, 309-312 ; 
316, 317,332. 

Trude, Madame, 266 ; character of, 
308; 312, 316,317, 369. 

U. 
United States, Madame Roland 
liopes her friends have fled to 
the, 113. 



Index 



381 



V. 



Vase, M., literary reunions of, 

215-220. 
Velly, Ahbi, 143. 
Versailles, visit to, 157-159. 
Vertot, Abbe de, 134. 
Vincennes, visit to, 340-342 ; 

343- 



Voltaire, 66; poems of, 142; 341. 
Voiiglans, M. de, 1S9, ig^. 

W. 

Watrin, music master, 53. 

X. 

Xenophon, writings of, 313. 



HISTORICAL MEMOIRS OF THE 

EMPEROR 
ALEXANDER I. 

AND THE COURT OF RUSSIA 

By Mme. La Comtesse de ChoiseuUOouffier. 

Translated from the original French by MARY BERENICE PATTERSON. 
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The author of this volume was an intimate friend of Alexander and an ardent sup- 
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Chicago Chronicle. 

The author's admiration for Alexander is boundless, but this very enthusiasm 
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